


Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

by Terri Botta (Isilwath)



Series: Let Love In [5]
Category: Southern Vampire Mysteries - Charlaine Harris
Genre: F/M, Pregnancy, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-01-19
Updated: 2015-01-19
Packaged: 2018-03-08 06:08:49
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 20
Words: 112,777
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3198287
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Isilwath/pseuds/Terri%20Botta
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>The 5th and last installment in the Let Love in Series. Eric and Sookie have been together for 10 years and Eric wants to give Sookie something he thought she'd never be able to have.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Hope Is the Thing With Feathers

A Let Love in side story

By Terri Botta

Disclaimer: I don’t own the Southern Vampires. Sole copyright belongs to Charlaine Harris. I’m poor so don’t sue.

Rating: M for later chapters.

Timeframe: Post-From Dead to Worse, Ten years after LLI

 Pairing: Eric/Sookie

 Summary: Eric gives Sookie a gift.

A/N:  One of my readers challenged me to write a Sookie pregnancy fic that did not involve magic or the intervention of Niall. Here is what I came up with. This is the 5th and last installment of the Let Love In series.

The title comes from the Emily Dickenson poem of the same name. 

Enjoy

 

Chapter One

 

January 2016

 

            “So… please explain this process to me,” he asks, trying to be patient, but finding it difficult.

            The older of the two doctors is afraid of him, and the scent of his fear is distracting. He has come here by request to hear their proposal, but so far he is not impressed. The office he is seated in is plain and sterile, decorated in tones of beige and white. The two doctors are also dressed in white lab coats, and he wonders if he shoved one of them into the wall, would anyone be able to tell. He doesn’t know their names, and he does not care to ask.

            “Well, you see, it’s like this,” the young one, the enthusiastic one, explains. “We have discovered through our extensive study of vampire physiology – volunteers only!” He sees that the man is hasty to add that, which is good because there have been rumors of secret labs full of unwilling Supes undergoing any number of horrors in the name of science. “We have discovered that a condition exists in male vampires that is similar to the situation with females.”

            Four years ago, a team of scientists (the very team on which these two doctors were members) discovered a way to resurrect eggs harvested from a female vampire’s ovaries. As it turns out, whatever eggs a woman has prior to when she is turned remain in a type of suspended animation, and now, with the miracle of modern medical science, it is possible to take those eggs and give them new life by inserting their genetic material into a donor human egg that has had its contents removed. The new egg can then be artificially fertilized and implanted into a donor womb and _voila!_ a female vampire can raise her own biological child.

            Wonders will never cease. One of his minions has undergone the process and two others are discussing it.

            There are nights when he hates that his mate spends so much time among the undead (himself excluded of course) because she has been cooing and bubbling over babies far too much these days, and he has heard the loud ticking of her biological clock resounding in his own ears. She is turning thirty-seven this year, but his blood has kept her looking no older than twenty-five, but then she always did look young for her age. Still, he knows she feels the years even if she is not showing them.

            She will never speak to him of her pain or her secret desires, but he knows them anyway. He reads them in her longing looks when she sees her niece and nephew, and in her sad silences after. That is why he is here now in this research facility in Boulder, CO when his wife thinks he is in Denver on business. His bonded has a need, and he wants to fulfill her wishes. He will do anything for her, and he admits that the idea presented to him by the doctors is intriguing.

            “Go on,” he prompts. He knows he is one of the first male vampires to answer their call for test subjects, and he is by far the oldest.

            “Well, while they are alive, normally fertile men continually produce sperm in the testes. These sperm are released when he ejaculates…” the young one goes on.

            “I am familiar with the concept,” he interrupts drolly.

            “Well, our theory is that… if there were any sperm still in a man’s testicles at the time of his turning, they might still be there,” the older one interjects.

            “I can assure you that my balls were quite empty when I was turned. My Queen was most…. insistent on enjoying my attentions repeatedly on the nights before she killed me.”

            “That’s okay, because you’re sure to have immature sperm still there, sperm that weren’t quite ready to go so to speak,” the young one assures him.

            He feels tag-teamed.

            “I’m 1000 years old, don’t you think they’ve gone a bit stale by now?” he presses. He must admit, the idea seems… interesting.

            “No! No. That’s the beauty of it,” the young one says, his eyes wide with excitement. This one loves his job. “Our theory is that the immature sperm would be in the same stasis that the female vampire ova are. If we can harvest some genetically viable sperm that were almost ready but – say hadn’t developed flagella yet, we can take those sperm cells and extract the genetic material. Then we can implant that material into donor cells and grow active, viable sperm in the lab.”

            “Which could then be used to fertilize my wife’s eggs,” he offers.

            “In theory, yes,” the older one confirms.

            “What do you need from me?”

            “Well, we’d need to go in and harvest some samples from the seminiferous tubules in your testicles at the very least. From there, we can try to extract the immature sperm and get their nuclei,” the young one answers.

            “You want to cut into my balls,” he sums up.

            “It’s laparoscopic surgery. The incision would be no longer than a millimeter!” the young one assures him hurriedly.

            “Would I be conscious for this?”

            “Well… we could do it during the daytime. The daylight stupor is a natural anesthetic in vampires.”

            “If you’re going to be getting anywhere near my crotch with a knife – any knife – you had damn well better believe I want to be conscious for it,” he deadpans, showing just a hint of fang.

            “Well, that is your choice, of course,” the young one agrees, getting nervous, as he rightfully should. He is talking to a millennia-old killer. A bit of fear and a healthy dose of respect will ensure that this one remains among the living long enough to perform his task.

            “It is. What else do you need from me?”

            “Well, funding is always an issue…” the older one begins.

            “Money is no object. If you can get me what I want, I will reward you handsomely for it,” he says abruptly.

            “Donations are always accepted and deeply appreciated,” the older one replies with a nod.

            “When can we begin?”

            “We can schedule you for the preliminary surgery as early as tomorrow evening,” the young one answers.

            “My flight back to Louisiana leaves at ten o’clock. Can you do it before then?”

            “Oh, yes, of course. The entire procedure shouldn’t take more than thirty minutes.”

            He nods and whips out his checkbook, writing out a check and handing it to the older man. He has used an account that he keeps for himself, away from his wife’s oversight. It is his “mad money” account; the one he uses for toys and impulse purchases. His mate has such an account of her own, and they have each agreed not to criticize or argue about any item bought from a mad money account. It helps them to feel as if they are each their own person with the ability to spend money as they please. It’s one of the ways they keep each other happy.

            He smirks when he sees the man’s eyes open wide as he counts the number of zeros.

            “I assume that will suffice for a down payment?” he asks.

            “D-down payment? Uh, oh, yes, of course,” the older one stammers.

            “You will let me know if there are any additional costs involved, and I will be happy to… donate again,” he says with a sly smile. He knows how to play this game very well.

            He rises, his eyes sweeping over the drab office and the drab human men again. They are peons, but they might just get him something that his wife desperately wants.

            “I will see you tomorrow evening. I will be here at seven o’clock.”

            “We’ll have everything ready for you, Mr. Northman. And thank you for your willingness to participate in our research,” the young one says, bowing.

            “We shall see if your theories produce satisfactory results,” he states as he walks out without a backward glance.

            He turns his cell phone back on as he exits the research facility and gets into his rental car. The trip back to Denver is a mere 25 miles, and he knows he will be back in plenty of time to attend his meeting with the Sheriff of Colorado Area Two to continue their trade negotiations. Boring, but necessary, and he’s good at it. He hated leaving his mate at home, but he didn’t want to get her hopes up by telling her his secondary reason for wanting to be the Louisiana representative on the Denver trip.

            His phone vibrates to tell him that he has a voicemail, and he activates his wireless headset to listen.

            “Hello, lover. I’m guessing that you are still stuck in those boring meetings so I thought I’d leave you a little message to perk you up,” his wife’s voice purrs.

            Oh, he’s perking up all right, but it’s not the kind of perking he wants or needs when his mate is hundreds of miles away.

            “Pam got a new shipment of lingerie in tonight. I’m modeling the leather corset right now. I had her take a picture. Be sure to check your text messages.”

            He opens his inbox and is rewarded by a vision of his bonded in a leather bustier that leaves her breasts exposed. Her dusky nipples are hard and erect, and she is sporting that secret, sexy smile that always makes his fangs run out in lust. He groans. He loves her, but she is tormenting him. He wants to call her back and make her as hot and bothered as she has made him, but he has three hours of meetings to get through, and he won’t be able to stand it if he is hard and aching. He’ll call her afterwards and engage in unsatisfying phone sex, but it’ll make her happy, and he needs to hear her voice anyway. Being apart from her is agony.

            Ten years and he still needs her like a flower needs sunlight. His contemporaries and rivals all marvel at his Bond for very few have ever witnessed one as strong and powerful as theirs. All the more incredible is the love that has bound them more deeply than the blood they share. Like the Song of Solomon singing the praises of his Beloved, as she is his, so he is hers, completely, and he would not have it any other way.

            The trade meetings are every bit as excruciatingly boring as he had feared, but he gets a text message in the middle of them confirming his seven o’clock appointment in Boulder the following night, and that brightens his mood. He is afraid to tell Sookie about his plans because he does not want to give her false hope, but he knows she suspects that he is hiding something from her. He wonders how long he can keep the secret until he will have to come clean. He hopes he can hold it in until the doctors can discover if their theory is correct. Once viable sperm is created, her participation will be required to move on to the next step, of course.

            He calls his wife as planned, and gets her all excited and horny for him, then talks her through getting herself off while he strokes his own erection. Masturbating is no fun, but it takes off the edge. He sings a little Norse lullaby to her as they hang up, sending his love across the bond. They can feel each other, even when they are this far apart, because are so close now that they are almost one being, but they have managed to be able to maintain some semblance of separation.

            Over the years, they have developed enough skill within their bond to keep some thoughts private, although feelings always transmit across the bond to some varying degree. The small distance is best for maintaining their balance. No one really wants to know everything their lover is thinking, and they are no exception. When it is necessary, however, they can, and have, acted as one entity, a formidable force favored by the gods themselves, and their enemies have trembled before them.

            He goes to bed missing her and full of dreams for an impossible future. What will he do if the procedure doesn’t work? Does he tell her anyway? What will he do if it does work? What kind of a life would a child of theirs have? Would Sookie even take the chance if it is given to her?

            There are too many questions and no answers for any of them. He curls up in the coffin he uses for travel, wrapping himself in a blanket that has both his and his mate’s scents. He will have some answers tomorrow, but they may very well lead to more questions. He will have to see.

            The two doctors he met with are there the following night, along with two others he has not met before. One is a woman of Asian descent and the other is an African American man. All four are practically vibrating with excitement.

            “Mr. Northman, welcome back. This is Dr. Xian. She will be performing the laparoscopy on you tonight,” the young one from yesterday tells him.

            He gives Dr. Xian a winning smile. “I’ll have you know that I am very particular about what women I let handle my testicles.”

            She laughs nervously and blushes. It is a very enticing sight.

            “Well, I’ve been told I have a very light touch,” she says.

            “Oh, I do hope so. I’ll be needing them later tonight after I get home. My wife will be very disappointed if I cannot perform for her.”

            She laughs again, but this time there is a spark of jealousy in her eyes.

            “Shall we begin, then? I have a plane to catch in three hours,” he reminds.

            The four doctors snap to attention.

            “Yes, of course. Right this way, Mr. Northman,” Dr. Xian tells him and leads the way down a white, sterile hallway, to another white, sterile room with a long reclining table. What is it with doctors and their fear of color? Would it be so bad to add some blue or green in here? It looks like his old home on a winter morning.

            “If you’ll just disrobe from the waist down, Mr. Northman, and lay down on the table, we can begin,” she instructs, offering him a paper sheet. “You may cover yourself with this if you wish.”

            He gives her a tolerant look and drops his pants, kicking them off. “You obviously haven’t spent much time around my kind, woman. We have almost no modesty.”

            He settles himself down on the reclining table and puts his hands under his head.

            “You may proceed whenever you are ready,” he says.

            With the other three doctors in attendance, Dr. Xian positions lights and equipment into place, and begins preparing for the surgery. It is much easier to work on a vampire because infection and bleeding issues are not a problem, so he finds it amusing when she sterilizes her instruments.

            “Do you mind if we video tape your surgery for research documentation?” the young one asks.

            “You may, and I’ll even let you keep the tape,” he answers with a smirk.

            The procedure takes only twenty minutes, and the worst part of it was when Dr. Xian had to shave his scrotum where the laparoscope had to be inserted. That was a very odd sensation. He never knew he was ticklish down there, but he thinks he surprised the good doctor when she made the small cut. He didn’t even twitch.

            “I have a very high tolerance for pain,” he’d told her.

            A special retractor clamp has to be used to keep the incision from healing over before the doctor is finished her work, and the hair has already regrown by the time she is done. When the retractor is removed, the little cut closes within three minutes, and he experiences only minor discomfort in his crotch for about ten minutes before that fades completely as well.

            When it is over, he gets dressed and follows the older one to an observation room where he can watch Dr. Xian and the rest of the team of Super Friends analyze the samples they’ve just sucked out of his balls. He sees them take the bits of tissue and put a tiny portion on a slide to be viewed under a microscope. The scope is attached to a video screen so he can see for himself what the doctor is observing. The images on the screen make no sense to him, but whatever they are looking at seems to make the doctors happy because they give each other the “thumbs-up” sign.

            “I take it that you were successful,” he states.

            “Yes,” the older one confirms. “It appears that Dr. Xian was able to harvest a substantial sample of spermatids from the seminiferous tubule.”

            “And this is a good thing, I gather?”

            The doctor nods. “Oh yes. It’s a very good thing. Spermatids are one step away from mature spermatozoa. All they are lacking is the flagella to allow them to swim. You appear to have quite a number of them. It gives evidence to the steadily declining sperm counts among modern men. Men from your… era must have been very… virile.”

            “So glad I could add to your research data. What happens now?”

            “Now we separate the spermatids and see if we can extract the haploid nuclei. Once we do that, we will attempt to insert the nuclei into recently harvested human spermatids that have had their nuclei removed. Then we will see if we can induce spermiogenesis to create viable sperm containing your genetic material.”

            Most of what the older one said made little sense, but he gets the basic idea. They are going to try sticking his sperm DNA into someone else’s sperm cells. It’s quite ingenious actually. Every time he is sure humans are nothing but useless blood sacks, one of them comes up with something brilliant like this.

            “When will you know if you have been successful?” he asks, but the doctor does not answer because there is a bit of a commotion in the lab on the other side of the observation glass. The doctor’s eyes are wide and staring, and he does not like being left out of the loop.

            “What is it?” he demands.

            “Dr. Xian has just found a group of mature spermatozoa. They must have been ready to be transported to the epididymis, but they hadn’t been transferred yet when you were turned,” the man replies.

            His eyes snap to the monitor, and he is shocked to see the unmistakable shape of a tiny tadpole on the screen. Chills run down his spine as he realizes the possibilities for the first time.

_‘That… came from my loins…’_ “Oh.”

            “Pretty amazing, huh? 1000 year-old sperm,” the older one comments.

            He blinks, getting himself together. It is too early for hope or rejoicing, but now he believes that there might be cause for hope and rejoicing.

            “Call me when you are able to determine if we can move on to the next step,” he says, proud that he has kept his voice steady.

            “We should know in three weeks,” the doctor tells him.

            “I will be waiting to hear from you,” he replies and heads out. He can barely stand to stay there for another moment. His spirit is growing too big for his body.

            As he walks to the rental car, he admits that he has not really given the idea the serious thought it deserves. Perhaps this is because he had convinced himself that such a notion was impossible. Now, of course, he is rethinking his position, but it is still too early to say anything, however, so he resolves to keep his mouth shut for the moment.

            He makes it back to Denver in plenty of time to catch his plane, and he is back in his wife’s arms by 2am. She is there waiting for him when he exits the Anubis flight, and he gives her his brightest smile.

            “How was Denver?” she asks him after he kisses her breathless.

            “Cold, boring and lonely,” he replies, putting his arms around her and breathing deep. He loves her scent. He especially loves it when it is laced with arousal as it is now. Her smell is almost as intoxicating to him as fairy blood.

            “Mmm. I’m sorry. I told you I would have gone with you.”

            He sighs and kisses her hair. “No, no. It was best for you stay here and oversee our interests.”

            She chuckles and steps away, sliding her arm in his as they walk side-by-side out to where she has parked the car. He drives and she drives him insane for the short trip back to their Shreveport nest. He would have liked to have gone to their Ruston nest, but he can’t wait the extra twenty minutes it would take to get there. He is buried to the hilt inside of her by the end of the hour, engaging numerous times in the act that insured that his balls were completely empty of mature sperm at the time of his first death.

            Afterwards, he holds his mate and hums softly to her as she sleeps. He doesn’t know how he is going to tell her about what he has been up to, but he knows he’ll have to say something eventually. He puts it, and all of his uncertainties, out of his mind as he beds down with his mate and sinks into her warmth and scent as the day takes him.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

 

            Twenty-two days later there is a message on his voicemail from a Doctor Kalas. He seems to remember seeing the name in regards to the research clinic, and for sure the message is regarding his submission to the study.

            “Mr. Northman, I’m calling to tell you that our preliminary experiments appear to have produced promising results. Please contact us for further details.”

            He waits until he is in his car and on his way to Fangtasia before returning the doctor’s call. His mate is spending the first part of the evening at their other club in downtown Shreveport, and then she will join him later at the bar. He wonders if he will have good news and how he will go about telling her.

            “Mr. Northman,” the disembodied voice on the other end greets him when he calls. “We have been successful in producing what appear to be viable sperm from nuclei extracted from the sample you gave us. The next step is to see if the sperm are capable of fertilizing an egg.”

            “You will use no egg other than that of my wife’s. I will not risk fathering a child with a stranger,” he insists.

            “Oh, no sir. Of course not. We know the terms of the contract you have with us.”

            He nods even though he knows no one can see him. “Very good. I will be in touch shortly regarding how I wish to proceed in this matter.”

            He hangs up and grips the steering wheel in both hands. While the news is not unexpected or unwelcome, it has left him with an interesting dilemma. He has no choice but to tell her now, and he is not certain how she is going to take the news. He decides that there is no time like the present, and he calls his child as he makes a turn that will take him to the club instead of the bar. He tells her that he will be delayed in arriving at Fangtasia and to handle things until he arrives. Pam is as competent as ever, and he as no doubts that she will perform her duties satisfactorily.

            He wonders how she will take the news. Pam is not one of his subjects who is considering becoming a mother. In fact, he knows that she thinks that the entire notion is perverse and ridiculous.

            “We used to eat babies, not raise them,” she’d told him once when the news of the first implanted vampire ova had been released.

            Still, her personal feelings aside, he knows that his child will guard and protect any infant Sookie bears as if it were her own. She will do it not only because he will order her to, but because his wife and his child are as close as any two friends can be when one is a vampire and the other is human, and Pam genuinely likes Sookie very much.

            He pulls into the parking lot associated with the renovated warehouse that contains his and Sookie’s multi-level, multi-use nightclub called _Stackhouse’s_. The club is not a “vampire” club with all the fangbangers and gothic themes, but a regular dance hall that caters to everyone, Supernatural or not. There is also a small all-night lingerie shop called _Guilty Pleasures_ that is Pam’s baby and a smaller club that caters to Jazz, R &B and Cajun/Creole music called _Adele’s_ attached to the building. His mate is the general manager of the entire complex, and her ex-boyfriend, John Quinn, is head of security.

            He bought the weretiger’s marker from Felipe when he was opening the club, and now the shifter must work for him. Quinn is anything but overjoyed with the arrangement, but it keeps him out of the Pits, and he gets to see Sookie on a daily basis. One would think having an ex-lover of his mate so close to her would be a misguided thing to do, but he knows his wife’s faithfulness, and her heart. She was worried about the tiger’s fate, and having him come to work in Shreveport solved many problems. It assured his mate that her ex was not in the Pits, gained him a bodyguard whom he knew would die for Sookie if he had to, and kept a potential rival and enemy right under his nose where he could be watched.

            And, to be honest, the arrangement has worked out much better than expected. Quinn’s formidable profile and attitude have been invaluable in dealing with troublemakers coming from the “alternative” club across the street: _Gabriel’s_ , the “Christian” nightclub owned by members of the Fellowship of the Sun (he admits that part of the reason he bought the warehouse was because of its location), and his presence has been especially useful now that the Shifters and Weres have come out of the closet the same as the vampires.

            Believe it or not, the vampires actually had an easier time gaining tacit acceptance from the human population than the Shifters did. Somehow humans were able to assimilate the reality of the undead much more readily than the reality of shape shifters among them. Go figure.

            He parks in the employee lot behind the club, in the spot reserved for him, and enters through the service door. The guard on duty recognizes him and gives him a nod as he passes. He sees the man talking into the mic at his shoulder, and he knows that soon all the security personnel will be alerted to his presence. That’s fine with him.

            His wife’s office is on the second level, overlooking the main stage and dance floor. It has a bank of windows that can be blacked out for privacy and cleared with a switch. He can see her sitting at her desk, absorbed in her work, and he smiles as he flies directly up to the catwalk that leads to her door. She looks up at him in confusion when he walks in, and frowns when he flips the switch that blacks out the windows. He gives her a sexy smirk as he closes and locks the door behind him.

            “My lover,” he purrs.

            She had already left for the club by the time he rose so this is the first he’s seen her tonight. She is deep into the annual inventory and tax reports, and she has been buried (ha! ha!) in paperwork for the past two days. He knows she is trying to clear the docket so they will have the weekend free. Little does she know that they might be taking a trip to Colorado instead of spending their free time in their Ruston nest.

            She stands and walks around her desk. She is wearing a lovely black cotton skirt that comes down to her mid-calves and a white button-up blouse with the first three buttons undone to show just a hint of her natural bounty. She is also wearing her screw-me black heels, and his fangs run down in anticipation of doing just that.

            She knows full well the effect she has on him because she smiles slyly and arches her neck.

            _‘Couldn’t stand to be away from me any longer?’_ she teases, coming to stand in front of him and stroking his arm. She thinks he’s there for a booty call. Well, no one said he couldn’t indulge her and then give her the news.

            _‘Something like that,’_ he agrees, bending down to kiss her.

            She loves it when he claims her still partially dressed, especially if she is wearing the screw-me heels, so he obliges her and takes her while she is still wearing the shoes, her stockings and her garter belt. Her panties don’t survive, but they order them by the caseload down in _Guilty Pleasures_ , so there is always an easily accessible replacement available – and she keeps spares in her purse, her desk and in his desk at Fangtasia. Loss of them is an… occupational hazard, or so it is in the running joke about their active sex life.

            When he is finished satisfying her, and himself, she sets herself to rights then he gathers her up and sits beside her on the leather couch in her office. He presses his lips to her temple as he plays with her hair, and she knows he is about to tell her something important.

            _‘My lover. My love. I have some news for you,’_ he begins, using mindspeech to insure privacy.

            _‘Does this have something to do with the call that came from Colorado this evening, and the thing you’ve been keeping from me?’_ she asks nonchalantly.

            He frowns. “They called the house? Did you speak with anyone?”

            “Only long enough to tell them you weren’t up yet. They said they were going to call your cell phone and leave you a message.”

            He sighs. That he was not expecting, but there is nothing to be done for it.

            “I see. Well…” _‘Yes. What I have to say does have something to do with that call and with the secret I’ve been keeping from you.’_

            He feels her brace, her natural defenses rising, but she’s much better at controlling her temper and not jumping to conclusions these days, and he appreciates that.

            _‘Okay,’_ she says carefully, and he can feel the tumult of emotions in the bond. It’s only going to get worse.

            _‘Last month when I went to Denver, I had another reason for wanting to go to Colorado…’_

            He tells her everything; from the moment of first contact when he read the request for volunteers sent across the vampire network to his minor surgery, all the way up to the news he received tonight. She listens, her reactions ranging from surprise to anger to disbelief and then amazement. When he is finished, he waits for her response, and it takes her several moments to get her thoughts in order. One thing he is certain of, however, is that she is not pleased that he made such an important and profound decision without her.

            _‘You did this… for me?’_ she finally asks.

_‘I did it for both of us,’_ he replies firmly.

            _‘Do you… do you even **want** to be a father? We’ve… never talked about it before.’_

_‘I never thought it would be possible before. I’ve spent the last 1000 years believing it was impossible.’_

_‘And now?’_ she presses.

            _‘Now I am… intrigued by the possibilities.’_

_‘Just intrigued? Eric, we aren’t talking about getting a dog. We’re talking about having a… a baby.’_ Even her thoughts get choked up on the word. She is swirling and careening with the news, but trying to stay grounded. She is both ecstatic and cautious. She wants this desperately, but part of her is so used to being denied this thing, that she is too afraid to hope.

            _‘I understand this.’_

_‘But Eric…’_

_‘Do you wish me to tell them to destroy the samples? Or to freeze them and leave them as they are? I will not continue any further with this without you, my lover. I will father no child unless it is yours.’_ In this he is adamant. He will raid the clinic and steal back his sperm if he must, but he hopes it will not come to that.

            _‘No! No, I don’t want you to tell them to destroy the semen. It’s just… it’s a lot to handle in so short a time. I guess now they need, what? My eggs?’_

            He nods. _‘That is the perceived next step. Eggs from your ovaries would be presented to the altered sperm to see if they are capable of fertilizing them.’_

_‘Would the baby be human?’_

_‘Of course. The DNA in my loins is the same as what it was when I was alive.’_

_‘Like the female vamps’ eggs…’_ Her mind is whirring, her thoughts flying by at an almost vampiric rate.

            _‘Exactly.’_

_‘So then… I’d give eggs, and they’d see if your sperm can fertilize them, and then what?’_

_‘They’d be implanted in your womb I presume.’_

_‘So it’d be like having a test tube baby only with an added twist that the DNA in the sperm is yours.’_

_‘Well… mine from when I was human,’_ he reminds.

            _‘But… I’d be pregnant. I’d be having your baby.’_

_‘Our baby. You would be responsible for half of the contribution,’_ he corrects reasonably. He wants her to understand that this will be a joint creation in the truest sense of the words.

_‘Oh Eric… I don’t know. I just…’_ She stands and begins to pace nervously. _‘I can’t believe you did this without consulting me.’_

_‘I did not want to give you false hope. I am sorry if I did wrong. If I had come to you beforehand, would you have told me not to do it?’_ he explains, trying to keep the defensive tone out of his thoughts.

_‘That’s not the point. The point is we would have made the decision together. Now I…’_

            He stands and opens his arms, but he knows better than to try to hold her without her consent. _‘Forgive me. I had not considered that you would not want this.’_

            She stops pacing and faces him. She is close to tears, but he notices that she is unconsciously placing a hand over her womb.

_‘I **do** want this. But Eric…’_

_‘You do not have to make any decisions tonight. You can sleep on it as they say. I told the doctors at the research facility that I would let them know what I had decided to do next after I spoke with you.’_

            She nods, hugging herself. She looks so lost and forlorn that he desperately wants to go to her, but he does not. It’s not the right moment. Soon though.

            _‘Yes. Yes, I need time to think about this. It’s so much…’_

            She stops and looks at him, her eyes watery, but full of wonder.

            _‘Thank you,’_ she says, coming to him, allowing him to hold her, which he does readily and with relief. _‘Thank you for doing this. Even though I’m not happy that you did it without my knowledge, I’m still amazed that you did it at all.’_

_‘Why? Don’t you know by now that I will do anything for you? I saw how you ogled Tara’s baby boy, and how you oohed and ahhhed over Felicia’s girl. Did you think I didn’t notice?’_ he tells her gently.

_‘No. I knew you’d notice, but Eric… cooing over someone else’s baby is a far sight different from having one of your own.’_

_‘That hasn’t been my experience. In my memory, women ogling babies often led to more babies. It was almost as if it was contagious.’_

            He was going for levity and it works. She chuckles. _‘Holding babies causes pregnancy, huh?’_

            He nods. _‘That and long winters… and men returning from war… and festivals… and alcohol. Alcohol made a lot of babies, if I recall.’_

_‘Alcohol makes babies, hm? If it made you, that would make a great deal of sense.’_

            He laughs and they are both back on an even keel. He bends his head down to kiss her, and she relaxes against him.

            _‘I am glad you are not upset with me,’_ he says.

            _‘How can I be upset when what you’ve done is so incredible? I know you’ve done some self-sacrificing things for me, but this…’_

_‘Shhhh. Don’t tell anyone. They’ll think I’ve gone soft. We’ll have to make them think it was all my idea,’_ he teases.

            _‘Oh, like Pam will believe that. Yeah, right. Next brilliant idea, Einstein?’_

_‘I knew Einstein. He was an… interesting individual.’_

_‘Why am I not surprised to hear you say that? Is there anyone you didn’t know?’_

_‘Attila the Hun. And Hitler. Both men were too scary for me.’_

            She laughs, snickering into his chest, which feels wonderful and almost gets him going again, then she steps back, her hand placed over his unbeating heart.

            _‘I love you,’_ she says fondly, and he swears that dead heart flutters.

            _‘And I love you, my lover, my wife, my bonded,’_ he replies earnestly.

_‘Gimme a couple of days to think about all of this, okay?’_

            He nods. _‘I will call the facility and tell them to preserve the samples until we make a decision.’_

            She agrees. _‘Thank you.’_

            He gives her a final kiss and releases her. “I should let you get back to your paperwork. I will see you at Fangtasia later, yes?”

            She nods and frowns at her desk. “Yeah. I’ve got another two hours of reports to go through, but then I’ll make my way over.”

            He gives her another sexy smirk. “Call ahead and I’ll make sure I’m… ready for you.”

            Her hand reaches down to squeeze his crotch, making him hiss in both pleasure and pain.

            “I thought you said you’re always ready,” she coos.

            He gives her a little growl and she giggles, releasing him, then reaches behind him to pat his ass.

            “It’s still my favorite part,” she states, giving him a quick slap before she skitters away.

            “You’ll pay for that, woman,” he warns, but they both know he’s not serious.

_‘Oh, I’m betting on it.’_

            He gives her a wink and leaves her office, flipping the switch to clear the blacked out windows on his way out. He meets Quinn as he walks down the stairs. The weretiger is looking up at him with a mixture of fear, respect and jealousy.

            “Everything okay?” the head of security asks. “The windows were blacked out… longer than usual.”

            It’s a dig at him, but he’s feeling generous. Quinn feels the need to push against his bonds on a regular basis, but he knows full well he’s only breathing because Sookie wishes it so.

            “Everything is fine. We… took our time tonight,” he replies, smirking. “And how are things this evening? Not expecting any trouble?”

            The weretiger ignores the taunt because he knows he was the one who started it, and moves on to answering Eric’s question.

            “No, not tonight, but Hallelujah Harry’s across the street is planning a “Revival” next weekend, so I expect some trouble then. With your permission, I’ll bring in some extra bouncers for added muscle,” the weretiger informs him, referring to _Gabriel’s_ by one of its nicknames. There are other much less flattering names for the club.

            “You are head of security. We trust your judgment. Do what you feel is necessary to insure the safety of the club and our customers,” he replies, breezing past the bald man.

            “Thanks.”

            “Think nothing of it,” he says almost as an aside.

            The truth is, Quinn is an excellent head of security and bodyguard, and Eric does trust his judgment in these matters. Even more so now that his poor, insane mother had succeeded in killing herself four years ago. It was a tragedy that brought terrible upset to his ordered world, but a relief in the long run. With the woman dead, she cannot be used as a bargaining chip anymore, and Quinn’s loyalties are no longer quite so divided. The sister is still out there, but she is a sight more stable than the mother ever was.

            Quinn’s realigned priorities work to Eric’s benefit, and they will work even more to his benefit if Sookie becomes pregnant. He can think of no better daytime guard than John Quinn, and he knows the weretiger will do it almost without having to be asked.

            He makes his phone call to the clinic once he is back in his car, and the researchers agree to preserve the samples until his wife is able to make her decision, but they do warn that not too much time should be taken because fresher samples are more likely to produce results. In this, he agrees. He hangs up with the promise to be in touch soon and makes his way over to his bar for the night.


	3. Chapter 3

Chapter Three

 

            Two nights later, his wife is waiting for him when he rises, and he knows she has come to a decision. He has left her to her own thoughts for the past two days, allowing her to work things out for herself, and only discussing the matter with her when she approaches him with a question. He knows from experience that the best way to handle his mate when she is heavily thinking is to let her come to her own conclusions without too much input from him. He has kept her happy, and satisfied, and done his best to ease her worries so she is free to devote herself to sifting through her emotions and desires.

            Tonight she tells him that she wants to visit the research facility in Colorado to see their setup and meet the doctors. He makes two phone calls, and a visit is arranged for Monday, the only day both _Stackhouse’s_ and _Fangtasia_ are closed. They are to fly Anubis Airlines on Sunday and return on their last flight to Dallas on Monday. Their connecting flight will get them back to Shreveport just before dawn on Tuesday morning. Decision made, she seems more relaxed and calm, but that is how she is. Once she has made a choice, her way is clear and she moves forward without hesitation. He loves that about her.

            They do not speak of the upcoming trip to anyone. Those who must know are aware that they are going out of town, but to where and why remains their secret only. The mere idea that a male vampire might be able to father children will be a huge breakthrough if this works, and the lid will be blown off the biggest obstacle to human-vampire relations. On many levels, this whole situation is huge, huge, huge, and the tighter control they can keep on it the better because all Hell will break loose once it goes public.

            But for now, all it is, is a possibility. Some tissue was taken from his testicles. The doctors think they might have created viable sperm from it. But no one will know if they are until the sperm are given an egg to fertilize, and, even if they can, there are still any number of obstacles in the way before the first vampire-fathered child cries its first cry.

            Still, there is hope. That night when they are lying in bed together, she takes his hand and puts it on her womb, lacing her fingers with his in a silent gesture of love and gratitude, and he thinks that hope is a beautiful thing. He hasn’t felt it in so long that he very nearly doesn’t recognize it when it lifts its timid and cautious head.

            Four days later they are sitting in the same office he occupied just a month ago only this time it is his wife who is asking the questions, and she has a battery of them. She obviously spoke to someone because she’s asking all of these questions that he would not have even dreamed of asking. Hmm. She must have talked to Izzy because there a decided Izzy-flavor to how some of the questions are worded.

            How much semen have they been able to create? How many eggs would need to be harvested? Who will do the implantation? Where will the embryos be stored? What will be done with any remaining embryos if they are successful in having a baby? What security measures are in place to make sure his semen can’t be stolen and used to impregnate other women? What measures are in place to protect their embryos from the same type of theft?

            All of them very interesting and valid questions, and the answers prove even more interesting. They are given a tour of the facilities and shown the security measures in place to insure that no one can gain access to the samples or the frozen embryos. Secrecy is their biggest defense. They learn that only four male vampires have answered the call for volunteers, and of the four only he has already undergone the procedure. Two others are scheduled to come in, but not for another week. It would seem that he is a trailblazer. It would not be the first time.

            At the end of the interrogation (for that is the only word he can think to use to describe what his mate is doing), Sookie asks what they need to do to proceed to the next step, and she is informed that any fertility clinic that does IVF can perform the preliminary tests and administer the fertility medications necessary to mature her eggs for harvest, but that the actual harvesting must take place in their clinic to insure the integrity of the research. He sees her think on this, then tentatively agree to look into local infertility doctors in Shreveport to see if there is one who would be willing to evaluate her and provide the necessary drugs. When they leave the clinic, she is quiet, but he hears her mind running circles in her head.

            “We’re really going to do this, aren’t we,” she says finally.

            “If it is what you want, yes.”

            “Is it what _you_ want?”

            “Yes. I want to be a father. I want to plant my seed inside you and watch it grow.  I want to see you grow heavy with my child and nurse his hungry mouth. I want to run my hand over your swelling womb and feel my son kick.”

            He never thought such words would ever come out of his mouth, but now that he has spoken them, he knows them to be true.

            “Are you set on having a son? What if the embryo they put in me turns out to be a girl? Will you be unhappy?”

            “No, because she will be beautiful like her mother.”

            It seems to be the right thing to say.

            They have some time before their flight, so they find a dark place to pull off and make love in the rental car. Their joining is sweet and joyful, and full of hope for the future.

            Back in Shreveport the following day, he wakes to find his wife in their home office, going through papers and printed-out pages from the Internet. She has spent much of the day doing research on in vitro fertilization and rating the local fertility clinics based on their success rates and credentials of the staff. She has narrowed it down to three potential clinics in the Shreveport area. She is excited, really beginning to feel it now, and he can feel her growing happiness expanding in the bond. He smiles, pleased to have made her so happy.

_‘We have a lot to talk about. A lot of decisions to make,’_ she tells him, her mind whirling and swirling in a kaleidoscope of colors and feelings _. ‘I think I’m going to call these people first…’_ She flashes a printed page at him. He catches the words Infertility and Shreveport but that’s it. _‘They have the best track record and the highest certified doctors.’_

            He nods. _‘I trust your judgment.’_

_‘Then we’re going to have to convert one of the bedrooms into a nursery. We can convert mine, I think, and maybe we can add an in-laws’ suite to the garage for a live-in nanny. Izzy suggested a doula. That’s a woman who stays with a pregnant woman and helps her even after the baby is born… I’ll start looking for one tomorrow. I wonder if Amelia knows anyone. Oh! I can ask her about the midwife she had when she was pregnant with Trevor… Oh, and what about the Ruston house? What are we going to do there? No one knows about it…’_

            She is getting ahead of herself as she is wont to do, and he knows she will work herself into a nervous fret if he does not bring her down a bit. He goes to her and puts his arms around her, humming against her neck because he knows that will stop her dead in her tracks.

            “I’m running off in a tizzy, aren’t I,” she says with a resigned sigh.

            “You are just excited. I am too, but we must be practical. We are only at the very beginning of this journey. Let us gather our maps and intelligence first before we secure the longship, hmm?” he replies diplomatically.

            “Don’t muster the troops until we have an actual plan of battle and a mission to complete?” she teases.

            He chuckles. “Something like that. Let us take this one step at a time. Call the clinics and see which one will be willing to do the preliminary work but allow the clinic in Boulder to do the rest. Whoever we choose must be able to be discrete and be willing to be sworn to secrecy. Once we have found one, we can go on to the next step.”

            She nods, moving on. “I should start taking folic acid and making sure I eat healthy.”

            “You already do eat healthy and my blood keeps you young and strong.”

            “About that… I was reading that vampire blood can increase fertility in human women because it increases sex drive.”

            “It’s logical to assume that the two are connected. If a woman is having more sex, she is more likely to conceive… if her lover is not a vampire, of course.”

            “There were these studies done on women who were doing V. They had higher birth rates,” she states, ruffling some papers with what looks to be a research article printed on them.

            He winces. V is the street name for illegally obtained vampire blood.

            “I don’t think such a study would be reliable. Women who do V are more likely to engage in unprotected and risky sex. The fact that more of them get pregnant should not be a surprise,” he points out.

            “True, but… the test samples were identical. Both study groups were essentially the same with the difference being one group did V and the other didn’t.”

            He wonders if they were studying prostitutes, but wisely keeps his thoughts to himself. She’s on a roll, and he’s not about to stop her. If it leads to her taking more of his blood, that will only mean more pleasure for him.

            “Well, we shall have to see, won’t we?” he says with a smile. “Perhaps we should do some… experiments of our own to… ah… test their theories.”

            She giggles and puts her hands on the arm he has around her shoulders. “That might be fun.”

            He nuzzles her hair. “Shall we begin now?”

            “Hmmmm… maybe…”

            He nibbles her ear. “Just maybe?”

            “You know, once we have a baby, we aren’t going to be able to have sex anywhere we want, anytime we want,” she warns.

            “Why? My parents certainly did.”

            She gasps and looks wide-eyed at him. “In front of you kids?”

            He shrugs. “Sometimes. Sex wasn’t something to be hidden back then, lover. Christian religion did that. When the pagans ruled…”

            “Sex in the streets at noon, huh?”

            He smiles. “Not quite, but no one tried to hide it, and certainly no one tried to teach that it was evil and dirty. Sex was a fact of life. It was to be enjoyed and honored.”

            He pulls her rolling chair back and swivels it to face him. She is dressed for work, but that has never stopped him from taking what he wants.

            “You have developed an annoying habit of leaving our bed before I wake,” he points out with some displeasure.

            She sighs and looks guilty. “I’m sorry. I know you miss me. It’s just that I’ve been so busy and so caught up in all of this…”

            He stops her with a kiss before she can get herself into a froth, and she yields readily as he unbuttons her blouse. Twenty minutes later, after he has had her and she has had him to their mutual, momentary satisfaction, they leave the office in preparation for a night’s work.

            “Lets say we go in late tomorrow and spend the evening in bed?” he suggests. “I can tell Pam that I won’t be in until eleven, and you can let the club staff know that you’ll be in later as well, and we’ll just wake up together and take our time making love and feeding each other. I’ll order in those crab cakes and stuffed mushrooms you like so much, and let you eat your dinner off my body.”

            “That sounds perfect. Can you add an order of salmon and cream cheese bites?”

            “Of course.”

            “Then you’ve got yourself a date, Mr. Northman.”

            “So glad to hear that, Mrs. Northman.”

            He kisses her good-bye in the garage as they each get into their separate cars and go their separate ways. He is already planning their evening in, making arrangements for the food to be delivered to the house the following night and deciding how he will present the meal to her. He adds dessert to the order, then stops at a late-night florist - run by a vamp in his retinue of all things. (Well, some vamps are bartenders, some are bouncers, some are police officers, and some are pansies that like flowers. It takes all kinds to run a successful empire.) The owner, a Japanese vamp who was turned sometime during WWII, looks up at him with her black eyes as he enters.

            “Sheriff,” she greets.

            “Miyoko.”

            “An arrangement of roses, lilies and orchids for your mate,” she states. She knows his tastes and orders very well, but tonight he wants something different.

            “Not this time. Make me something exotic and colorful, and have it sent to the standard address tomorrow.”

            “As you wish, Sheriff.”

            “And send a dozen lavender roses to her at _Stackhouse’s_ tonight,” he adds as an afterthought.

            He grabs a little card and writes, ‘I am breathless with anticipation for tomorrow night. Yours always, E’ It’s their little joke. He’s always breathless because he doesn’t breathe.

            “And put this with it,” he says, handing her the card in its envelope. She accepts it with a knowing smile.

            He gives her his credit card to pay for the flowers (at a discount of course. It’s good to be the Sheriff.), then continues on his way to frighten the tourists and enthrall the vermin at his bar.

            “You’re in a good mood tonight,” Pam observes some two hours later when he is on display in the middle of Fangtasia and being particularly tolerant of unwelcome advances.

            Well, at least he hasn’t broken any bones tonight. Anyone with half a brain knows the owner of Fangtasia is taken, but that doesn’t keep the brainless ones from trying. After so many years with his Bonded, his own telepathy is fairly well developed, and he can read human minds readily when he chooses. He usually doesn’t bother to scan them, however, because they’re all like rats in a maze, but every now and then one is a particularly strong sender or has an especially powerful mind.

            “I am feeling particularly generous his evening,” he replies.

            “I noticed. Things must be going well at Casa Northman.”

            He smiles. “They are. In fact, I will be coming in late tomorrow. Don’t expect me here before eleven.”

            She gives him a sly, knowing smile. “Of course. I was going to spend my night at _Guilty Pleasures_ tomorrow, so I will inform Clancy of your plans.”

            His child splits her time between the bar and her lingerie store. The store had been Sookie’s idea, but Pam has really taken the concept and run. Now _Guilty Pleasure_ s is the place to go to get lingerie for every occasion and flavor of kink. There is an entire back room devoted to the more… adventurous side of things.

            “That is acceptable.”

            His pleasure is her pleasure, and she has enjoyed an unprecedented amount of power and freedom over the last ten years, but that has only further cemented his hold over the area. His people are prosperous and happy. They are willing to die for him and his bonded, but he does his best to make sure they won’t have to. This is the mark of a good leader. He is one of Felipe’s most valued and trusted Sheriffs, and he works hard to keep it that way.

            He has no idea what the King is going to think of his plans, but he hopes that de Castro will not take his silence as insubordination. He thinks Felipe will understand why secrecy was so important, as long as he informs the King as soon as it looks like things might be successful.

            He leaves his throne to retire to his office and get some work done, returning to the floor for last call before heading over to _Stackhouse’s_ to help his wife. The club and the bar close at the same time, but it takes longer for customers to leave and things to wrap-up at the dance hall. He enters to find her just packing up her things in her office, the vase full of roses on her desk. She greets him with a kiss that reaches his tonsils and he laughs.

            _‘I take it that you liked my present,’_ he says, smiling.

_‘Breathless indeed.’_

            They leave the club together in his car. Hers will be fine in the parking lot overnight because they have 24-hour security, and the building is never left empty. Several acts of vandalism, including two fires, have made it necessary to keep a constant watch on the property. The culprits were patrons of _Gabriel’s_ , incited to mischief by the club owners’ hateful rhetoric, but they were dealt with swiftly.

            It is no secret that _Stackhouse’s_ is owned by a vampire and his human mate, and that makes the club an attractive target. The religious zealots had even gone so far as to paint a gristly likeness of his mate being burned in Hellfire as part of their gruesome mural. That had lasted all of three nights before the entire front façade of the old building collapsed under inexplicable circumstances.

            Once the Fellowship of the Sun discovers that his wife is pregnant, they will be an even bigger threat, and he wonders how he will deal with that. They already hate her even more than they hate him because they consider her a traitor against humanity. What will they do once they find out she is carrying a vampire’s child?

            He wishes he could just kill them, but he knows that would bring suspicion upon him and his people, and he knows better than to tell his wife that she isn’t allowed to work, so all he can do when the time comes is tell Quinn to double security and keep a guard on her at all times. He takes her home and lets her show him how grateful she is for the roses, and he silently prays to his patron Goddesses that he is just being paranoid.


	4. Chapter 4

Chapter Four

 

            It takes nearly a week for his wife to visit and interview the three clinics she had wanted to investigate, but in the end she went with the one she had previously pointed out to him. It seems like a lot of wasted time for her to have spent going to the other two clinics, but he doesn’t say so. She is happy with her choice and the clinic is happy for her business, even if they are forbidden from revealing her real name or from asking questions.

            As the wife of the most powerful vampire in Shreveport, her name is well known, and any whisper of Sookie Northman visiting a fertility clinic would make front page news in the vampire gossip rags, so she goes to the office under the name of Adele Hale, and her doctor, Dr. Marconi, is the only one who sees her after hours. If the doctor has any questions as to why a vampire’s wife is preparing for IVF, she keeps them to herself. Eric thinks she is a very wise woman.

            The first step in harvesting his wife’s eggs is ten days of fertility shots geared towards producing multiple eggs ready for fertilization. The shots are painful and make her bloated and cranky, but she bears it all with a smile and a flutter of hope in her heart. With each injection, and each ultrasound, she feels she is getting closer to her dream, and she happily endures any number of unpleasant side effects from the drugs. She even manages not to take her irritability out on him, and it is much appreciated because her unstable emotions make him grumpy, too.

            When the series is complete and ultrasounds confirm that there are numerous maturing eggs waiting to be retrieved, they make arrangements to take a trip to Colorado where Sookie will undergo the harvesting procedure. If all goes well, her eggs will be presented to his sperm, and they will see if the two get along. If they do, and the two like each other enough to result in fertilization, Sookie will be implanted with the embryos within five days.

            His wife is given a final shot of fertility medication meant to induce ovulation within 42 hours, and they leave Shreveport the following day under the pretense of taking a vacation. When their Anubis flight arrives in Denver, they pick up their rental car, go to their hotel long enough to check-in and drop off their bags, and then drive to the clinic where the doctors are waiting.

            The actual retrieval of the eggs takes a mere twenty minutes and is performed by the same Dr. Xian who harvested the samples from his testicles. He is there by his wife’s side while she is put under general sedation, and a needle is inserted through her vaginal wall. She is aware enough to hold his hand, but he knows that she does not feel any pain as Dr. Xian carefully collects the maturing eggs from her ovaries.

            It is the first time anyone has ever seen the fang marks on his lover’s inner thighs, and Dr. Xian startles a moment, and a tendril of disapproving thought snakes from her head, but she admonishes herself soon enough so he does not feel a need to let her know that both he and his wife have heard her unkind thoughts.

            While Sookie is in recovery, the doctor takes the eggs and does whatever is necessary to prepare them to meet their new boyfriends. He jokes with his mate as she comes out of sedation that they are being primped and made-up properly because no sperm of his would accept a frumpy woman. She laughs drunkenly and smiles up at him, her mind a fuzzy muddle.

            “Then how did you end up with me?” she asks.

            He raises her hand and kisses the back of her palm. “Even on your worst day, you are magnificent.”

            Her smile falters and a single tear escapes her eye. He catches it with his knuckle and licks it off his finger.

            “Thank you,” she whispers.

            “For what? For telling the truth?”

            “For never giving up on me.”

            He bends down and presses his lips to her forehead. “You’ve said that before, and I’ll tell you again: I knew you would be mine from the moment I saw you walk into Fangtasia, and you should know by now that I always get what I want.”

            “Prick.”

            “Yes, but you love me anyway.”

            “Yes.”

            Her eyes drift closed, and she is out for about fifteen minutes before she awakes and is more alert. Her mind is clearing as well, and she tries to sit up. He helps her, supporting her under her elbow as she swings herself around to dangle her legs off the edge of the table.

            “Careful, lover. Your legs might not hold you,” he warns.

            “I’m okay,” she insists and sets her feet on the floor.

            She leans against him as she stands, but her knees lock and she is able to balance on her own feet. She is still dressed in the flimsy hospital gown with the front ties, and he escorts her to the bathroom and helps her get dressed. Her fingers are still a little shaky and she fumbles a bit, but between the two of them they get her set to rights.

            When she is ready, he walks her to the observation room where the doctors are doing something with a Petri dish and putting it in an incubator. Dr. Xian sees them through the glass and nods to Dr. Kalas, who turns out to be the older doctor he had spoken with on his first trip to Boulder. Dr. Kalas leaves the lab and reappears through the door of the observation room.

            “Everything is as it should be?” he asks the doctor.

            The man nods. “Yes. Dr. Xian was able to harvest fifteen eggs from Mrs. Northman’s ovaries. We’ve put them in a nutrient media with some of the engineered sperm containing your DNA, and we will now put them in an incubator. We’ll know in 18 hours if fertilization has occurred.”

            “Eighteen hours? That’s quick.” She looks up at him. “Wow. My eggs are easy.”

            He grins. “It could be because my sperm are so dashing and irresistible.”

            “In your dreams, Viking.”

            Dr. Kalas chuckles. “We’ll know tomorrow if we were successful. Why don’t you go to your hotel and come back tomorrow evening? Where are you staying?”

            “The St. Julien,” he replies.

            He looks down at his wife. She is pressed against him, but she is watching Dr. Xian through the observation window. Her mind is quiet, but her face is wistful and sad. He puts his arm around her and squeezes her shoulder lightly. She comes out of her head and looks up at him, her eyes deep and open right to her soul. She is too afraid to be hopeful, but her hand comes up to lay over his.

            “Shall we go?” he asks.

            She nods wordlessly and allows him to lead her from the room, but somehow her head keeps turning to look at the incubator that holds all of their dreams for the future.

            Their hotel is one of the most luxurious in Boulder, and it is a resort and spa with many amenities and perks. When they checked in earlier, they were given a suite with magnificent views of the Flatiron Mountains, but also with a separate windowless room outfitted for a vampire’s daytime needs. Now he takes her to the restaurant and sits with her as she orders a light dinner that is easy on her stomach because she is nervous and still reacting to the fertility drugs. The resort has a few offerings for vampires, but not much, and he notices that they get a lot of stares as he watches her eat her pasta and chicken.

            When she is finished eating, they go back to their room and make love in the big poster bed. Her embraces are heated and desperate, and he can hear the hammering of her heart like bird’s wings flapping inside her chest. She wants him to help her not think, because when she thinks she gets scared and happy and desperate all at once and that makes her feel out of control, so he uses every trick and technique he knows to short-circuit her mind and reduce her to a being of pure sensation and feeling.

            When he is finished with her, she is boneless and drifting, her dusky eyelashes brushing against her skin. There are dark circles under her eyes and a hollowness to her cheeks; signs of stress and worry that were not there before. He calls down to the spa and makes an appointment for her to get a massage, facial, body scrub, manicure and pedicure, and a relaxing soak. He thinks she needs it, and having a five-hour spa day to occupy her will help keep her from stewing in her own head all day while he’s asleep.

            He wakes her long enough to tell her about his gift and is rewarded with a grateful smile.

_‘Thanks, baby.’_

            He smiles, kissing her temple gently. _‘Anything for you, my lover.’_

888888

 

            “We appear to have fertilization,” Dr. Kalas tells them when they arrive the following night.

            “You do?” his mate blurts, grabbing his arm and squeezing nervously. She had all but convinced herself that the sperm and eggs wouldn’t get along so it’s almost a shock to hear that they did.

            “Yes. All fifteen ova are showing two pronuclei,” the doctor confirms.

            “And that’s good. That means the sperm made their way into the eggs,” Sookie states.

            “Precisely.”

            She runs her hand down his arm to his hand and holds it very tightly. If he was human, she would have cut off the circulation.

            “So. Umm. Okay. So… now what?”

            “Now we wait to see how many of the fertilized eggs will develop into healthy looking blastocysts. Once that happens, we will know how many viable embryos we have to work with,” the man answers. “In the meantime, we will give you a regimen of drugs to make sure your uterus is ready to accept the implanted embryos when the time comes.”

            He notices that his wife’s mouth is stretching into the strained grin she gets when she’s nervous, and he moves closer to her to offer comfort. She presses back against him, and he can feel the fine tremors running through her body.

            “Well, okay. I guess I need to start on those right away then,” she says.

            “Yes. We have everything all ready for you. If you’ll follow me, I’ll get you set up with your medications and instructions.”

            Dr. Kalas leads them to the office where a bag with numerous blister packs of medication have already been collected for her.

            “Begin taking the progesterone tonight,” the man instructs. “That will begin the thickening of your uterine wall. The other medications are supportive. All the instructions are in the bag. If all goes well, we can transfer up to two embryos into your uterus in five days.”

            He watches as his mate takes the bag and holds it close to her chest. “What are the side effects I can expect?”

            “Headache, dizziness, tenderness in the breasts. Some women have trouble urinating and there have been some issues with vaginal discharge, but they should go away. In rare cases, women can get migraines and have severe clotting issues. You don’t smoke, do you?”

            Sookie shakes her head. “No, sir.”

            “Good. Smoking increases the risk of blood clotting.”

            “How long will I have to take it?”

            The doctor smiles. “Hopefully through the first trimester. Now why don’t the two of you go enjoy yourselves for a few days? Check in with us on Tuesday and come in for some blood work to see how things are going, and hopefully we will be able to transfer the embryos on Friday. In the meantime, we’ll keep a close eye on things here, do a preimplantation genetic biopsy on the embryos, and have everything ready to go once the embryos have reached the blastocyst stage.”

            “What’s a preimplantation genetic biopsy?” his wife asks shrewdly. He sort of knew what a biopsy was, but the word triggered a warning bell in her.

            “It’s a routine test of the embryo to check for any abnormalities or genetic diseases. We can also determine the sex of the embryo as well if that is important to you.”

            “Does it hurt the embryo?”

            Dr. Kalas shakes his head. “Oh no. It’s perfectly harmless. But the technique helps us weed out embryos that have a lower chance of developing into healthy babies.”

            He feels her mulling over that but stays silent. She knows much more about this process than he, and he does not like feeling out of his league. He vows to educate himself as soon as possible because, while his wife may be intelligent and shrewd, she is not nearly as conniving and devious as he is, and he can recognize the trait in others much more readily than she. If there is any hint of deceit, he will be the one to find it, and to do that, he must be on the up and up.

            “Okay. Is there anything we should be doing to um… get ready or improve our chances?” she asks finally.

            “Just keep taking your medication, eat sensibly, and, most importantly, relax. Stress hasn’t been shown to severely affect the success rate of IVF, but it certainly doesn’t help. We want you happy and excited and looking forward to your new baby, not worried about whether or not this is all going to work. You let us do the worrying. You two have done the hard part. We’ll take it from here.”

            He knows the doctor is trying to be reassuring, but he comes off as patronizing, and that gets his mate’s hackles up. He averts a scene by giving her a light squeeze as he pulls her against his body and kisses her ear.

            “That sounds like good advice,” he says. “Come, my lover. Let us go enjoy ourselves.”

            He does not wait for her to answer as he guides her from the office.

            “We will see you on Tuesday,” he tells the man even as Sookie is recovering her wits and about to begin a tirade.

            _‘Do you really want to fight with me right now?’_ he asks.

            _‘You’re treating me like a child!’_

_‘Yes, but only because you were about to make a scene.’_

_‘He treated me like a child too!_

_‘Yes, and I can terrify him **after** they have implanted you with our embryos. Deal?’_

            She huffs, but calms down. _‘Okay, but I want him so scared he pisses himself.’_

            He chuckles and kisses her. _‘Consider it done.’_

           

            They spend the next two days enjoying themselves very much. He barely lets her out of bed to eat or use the bathroom, and his goal is to keep her so busy and active at night that she sleeps all day and does not have time to be worried. He lavishes her with attention and small gifts because he knows that she still does not like grand gestures from him; although what gesture could be grander than the one he has already made, he does not know. Once his colleagues find out about what he has done, he knows they will shake their heads. But **_he_** will get the last laugh when he is holding his very own son on his lap.

            They head to the research facility on Tuesday, and Sookie’s blood work comes out promising. They do get some bad news, however. Three of the fifteen fertilized eggs have failed to divide properly and have been destroyed. This is normal, they are told, and to be expected. They are down to twelve embryos, but all they need is one.

            They spend the following three days doing their best not to count the hours until Friday. The medication she is taking makes his wife’s breasts sore, so their lovemaking is somewhat hindered, and she is growing increasingly more temperamental. He hopes it is not an early indication of how she will be when she is pregnant, because nine months of her mood swings would be very miserable indeed.

            He finds that fresh air and exercise helps her mood and physical condition, so he takes her to the Eldora Mountain Resort for some fun in the snow. It’s March so the snowpak is reduced, but his wife has never cared for skiing. Instead they go snowshoeing, tromping along twisted paths through thick glades of evergreen trees. The exercise is calming and peaceful, and they fall into a comfortable rhythm as they move side-by-side along the trail. The movement is nothing for him, but it brings back long buried memories of his human life. His mate is tired, but happy, when they return to their suite, and they engage in some horizontal exercise that goes easy on her tender breasts.

            On Friday they return to the clinic to find the entire team waiting for them with the video camera ready. Once again, Dr. Xian is the one who will be performing the procedure, and she gives Sookie a large glass of water to drink.

            “I will need to use an abdominal ultrasound to guide me while I do the implantation, and a full bladder will help me see your uterus more clearly,” the woman explains.

            His wife nods that she understands and drinks the entire glass in almost one gulp. She is a bundle of nervous tension, unable to even eat a meal before they rushed over to the research facility, and he can hear her hoping she doesn’t pee herself before the good doctor is done with her. He tries to give her as much strength as he can, offering her his support and courage, but he does understand that he is not the one who will have to go through the pregnancy and birth if the implantation is successful.

            “We will begin by transplanting two of the remaining embryos. We have determined that six from the original twelve that made it to the blastocyst stage are suitable for implantation,” Dr. Xian explains.

            “Only six?” his wife questions.

            “Those six are the best. Their cell division is even with very little fragmentation, and they have shown no abnormalities on the preimplantation biopsy results. Based on your overall age and blood work, we feel you should be implanted with no more than two embryos at a time to prevent the risk of a dangerous multiple birth. And if these two fail to implant, you will still have two more tries before more eggs will need to be harvested.”

            “Oh,” is all his wife is able to say. They both know from their extensive reading over the past five days that the rate of failure is fairly high.

            “Do you have a preference for the sex of the embryos implanted?”

            He and Sookie share a meaningful look, each asking each other the silent question, until his mate shakes her head. “No.”

            Dr. Xian smiles. “Okay then, we’ll choose two and bring them out for implantation.”

            “Okay.”

            When they are ready, his wife changes into a hospital gown and lies down on the table. Unlike when her eggs were harvested, now there are three strange men in the room with her in addition to him and her doctor, and she is not under sedation. He can feel her discomfort and nervousness, and it makes him protective and territorial.

            “Do all of you need to be in here for this?” he questions with an edge to his voice.

            The three male doctors look at each other.

            “One of us should stay to videotape the procedure,” the African American doctor replies.

            “And another of us should operate the ultrasound equipment,” Dr. Kalas adds.

            He raises an expectant eyebrow. “And the other one of you will be here why?”

            They look uncomfortable, but it is finally decided who will stay and who will go. Dr. Kalas volunteers to leave the room while the other two doctors set up the camera and position the ultrasound equipment. In the meantime, Dr. Xian has extended the metal foot rests on the table and placed his wife’s feet in them, raising Sookie’s legs and spreading her thighs. A bright light is positioned to shine directly on his mate’s private area, an area only three men have ever seen in her lifetime, and he can feel her embarrassment at being so exposed.

            “Can I… Can I have a… a blanket or… or something?” his mate whispers.

            Her heart is pounding and she is breaking out into a sweat. He scowls and bares a fang.

            “What about that flimsy paper thing you offered to me?” he asks. “Can not the same courtesy be given to my wife for her modesty?”

            They look at him as if he is an alien, and he snarls, making them jump.

            “Just because I have no modesty does not mean my wife enjoys having her privates put on display,” he growls.

            “Yes, of course, Mr. Northman,” the African American doctor agrees, hurrying to retrieve a thin blanket that Dr. Xian drapes over Sookie’s thighs to block the general view of his wife’s crotch.

            The young male doctor operates the ultrasound while the African American one positions the video camera such that it captures the images on the ultrasound screen as well as the general room. The ultrasound itself has a recording device built into it, but observational proof is needed for their research documentation. He is mildly comforted to know that neither strange man has a view between Sookie’s thighs now that the blanket is in place. The young doctor opens her hospital gown just enough to expose her abdomen, then he spreads a lubricating gel on her skin and begins rubbing the ultrasound paddle over her womb. Dr. Xian uses the image on the screen to guide her as she inserts a tube up Sookie’s vagina, through her cervix and into her uterus.

            “Look at me, my love. Look at me,” he tells her, taking her hand.

            She stares up at him, gripping his palm as tightly as she can because there is some discomfort from the catheter being pushed inside her, and she is trying desperately not to pee. He looks directly into her eyes and opens the bond completely, letting as much of himself merge with her as possible, and he feels her coming into him, falling into their union as she lets him support her through the ordeal.

            _‘A baby. We’re going to have a baby,’_ she sends.

            He smiles, soft and tender. _‘Yes. We are.’_

_‘Eric…’_

            She begins to cry silently, the tears leaking from her eyes, but he knows they are tears of joy.

            The entire procedure takes only fifteen minutes, after which his wife is allowed to get up and go get dressed. When she is set to rights, they meet with the research team to discuss what comes next.

            “There aren’t any studies that say physical activity versus non-activity has any effect on the success rate of implantation,” Dr. Xian says. “That being said, most women like to rest and relax on the day of their procedure. The embryos will free float for a day or two, but hopefully they will implant into the uterine wall. You should have a blood test done at your local fertility clinic in seven to ten days to confirm pregnancy. Keep taking the progesterone until you are instructed not to. With luck, you’ll be taking it for eleven weeks. Do you have any questions?”

            “No, but I am sure I will later,” Sookie replies.

            “Feel free to call us any time. We will be monitoring your progress carefully and we hope that, in nine months or so, we can announce the first successful birth of a child fathered by recombined sperm from a vampire. I hope you’re ready for all of the attention you’re about to get, Mrs. Northman.”

            His wife looks at him and she is positively beaming. “Well, after all I’ve been through with this one, I think I can handle a little extra attention,” she answers teasingly.

            He smiles, but a thought strikes him, and he looks at the doctors. “How soon before we can have sex?”

            Well, no one ever accused him of being vague.

            “Whenever you like, Mr. Northman,” Dr. Kalas replies. “There’s no indication that sexual intercourse helps or hinders the implantation process. But use your judgment and don’t do anything that you think might be too rough or traumatic.”

            He nods, ignoring his wife’s blush and glare.

            “Thank you. That is very good to know.”

            He pulls out his checkbook and writes another generous donation to the clinic; glad to do it and willing to pay twice what he has already given to insure that Sookie remains as happy as she is right now.

            “Thank you so much for all of your efforts,” he says, handing over the check.

            He doesn’t let Sookie see it, but she snatches it from him at the last moment to read the amount. She gasps and stares wide-eyed at him.

_‘Oh my god, Eric!’_

            He gives her a look. _‘Mad money account,’_ he reminds, and she shuts her mouth.

            He plucks the check from her nerveless fingers and places it in Dr. Kalas’s palm.

            “I hope to see you in nine months,” he tells them, taking his wife by the arm.

            She is still in a somewhat of a daze as she follows him out of the clinic.

            “Eric…” she begins.

            “Mad money,” he cuts her off.

            “But Eric…”

            “Mad money.”

            “But **_Eric_** …”

            “Shh! Mad. Money.”

            “But…”

            “Are you going back on our agreement? Do you want me to have oversight over your mad money account?” he asks, knowing full well that she doesn’t.

            “No…”

            “Then hush. It’s my money to do with as I please, and it pleases me to spend it on our child.”

            “But Eric, that’s just it. It’s **_our_** child. You shouldn’t have to bear the full responsibility for the bills.”

            He stops her as she moves to get into the rental car, and looks down at her with gentle eyes.

            “But my lover, pay for it is all I really **_can_** do after I donated the sperm. You are the one who must shelter and nurture our unborn baby. You are the one who must carry the weight and live with the discomfort, and suffer through the pain of childbearing. And don’t tell me it doesn’t hurt. I remember well my mother’s screams as she brought my younger siblings into the world.”

            “But those are things I don’t mind doing. I’m looking forward to carrying our baby. I **_want_** to carry our baby. The pain doesn’t matter to me.”

            He smiles. “And I want to help you in whatever way I can.”

            She puts her hand over his and he can see the stubborn set to her jaw. “We should shoulder this burden together. I’ll write you a check from my mad money account to cover half of what you just spent.”

            “I won’t cash it.”

            “Then donate it to charity and use it as a tax write-off. I don’t care.”

            But she does care, and he can feel her getting huffy. He decides that it must be a pride issue so he relents. His mate is a proud woman, and he does not want to pique her ire over something he sees as inconsequential.

            “Very well. I will let you pay. It obviously means a great deal to you so I will not deny you.”

            She snorts, but the fight goes out of her. “Alright. Thank you.”

            He opens the car door for her and she gets in, flashing him a tiny smile as she puts her hand over her womb. He smiles back.

            They have one more night at the resort before they leave for home on Saturday, and they spend it enjoying each other in soft and gentle ways. He bathes her in the big soaking tub in their room and orders room service, and they eat their respective suppers on their balcony overlooking the mountains. Later he takes her dancing – slow dancing, ball room dancing, not the fast shimmying kind of dancing that his lover is so good at – and he waltzes with her, light on both of their feet as if the hope growing inside them has given them both wings. Then as the deepest, darkest part of the night settles over the valley, they make their own light, brighter than the stars themselves shining in their eyes.


	5. Chapter 5

Chapter Five

 

            Six days later he wakes at home to the nagging feeling that something is terribly wrong. There is a horrible keening echoing across the bond, and it’s loud enough to wake him early from his daytime sleep. He struggles to rise, to fight the stupor because his mate needs him, and he forces himself to his feet, making the day release its hold upon him as he staggers to the bathroom where Sookie is a crumpled, sobbing heap on the tiled floor. There are bloody scraps of toilet paper stuffed in the trash bin, and the scent of dead blood assails his nose.

_‘No. Oh no…’_

            A hurried trip to the fertility clinic in Shreveport confirms what they already know. The implantation was unsuccessful, and his mate’s body has purged the embryos in a spill of blood.

            “Don’t worry,” the sympathetic doctor tells his wife. “This happens all the time. First implantations often don’t take. You can try again next cycle.”

            They are empty, hollow words that bring no comfort, and his wife cries for two days.

            It’s hard for him to hide what is going on from the vampires in his retinue and his employees. His wife is hard working and rarely misses a night of work, but he manages to waylay any questions by telling people that Sookie picked up a bug while on vacation, and she’ll be better in a few days. And she is better – physically at least. Mentally, she is disheartened and depressed, but she comforts herself in knowing that what happened to her is not uncommon, and they already begin to plan their next attempt.

            It takes three months for her to gather up the courage to try again, and this time she insists that they drive to Colorado instead of fly. She believes that the changes in atmospheric pressure so soon after the transfer might have adversely affected the embryos’ ability to implant, and she doesn’t want to risk it. He thinks it’s a crock of shit, but he doesn’t argue. Instead he spends eight hours stuck in the trunk of one of their cars while Sookie takes the first leg of the 16-hour, 1100 mile drive.

            The doctors in Boulder are as disappointed as they are, but everyone looks forward to another try. Setbacks are normal for any research project, and sometimes it takes a lot of persistence and dedication before any results are realized. That’s the problem with being trailblazers – often the way is rocky and dangerous.

            Dr. Xian transfers two more embryos into Sookie’s womb, and they drive back to Shreveport two days later. They are guardedly optimistic. Sookie has been on progesterone for longer now. Her uterus should be better prepared to accept the little ones. Or so they hope. Only time will tell if they are right.

            Eight days later they get their answer in the form of another bleed. The embryos have failed to implant again, and this time his wife is devastated. She blames herself. She thinks she is defective in some way; that she is not capable of carrying his baby. Never mind that multiple failures in IVF are common, or that she’s not the only one to lose implanted embryos twice. There is no comfort for her, no words he can say to ease her agony and self-recrimination. It must be her, she feels, because the sperm are effective and fertilize the eggs, so the deficiency must lie with her.

            No arguments to the contrary have any effect upon her, and he begins to think that he has made a terrible mistake in trying to walk down this road with her. All of the dreams and plans and joy they had felt at the onset of the journey have been crushed under the boot of failure, and he thinks that the death of hope is a horrible thing. Part of him wants to ask his patron Goddesses for yet another favor, but he knows he has received so many precious Gifts from them over the years that he does not feel he has the right to ask for their help.

            His mate recovers, but there is a dead place inside of her that he can feel himself, and nothing he does helps ease the ache. He says they can still try again, there are two more embryos waiting in Colorado, but she will hear none of it. She begins to curl into herself. She stops eating, stops socializing, and cuts most people out of her life, and it is very hard for him to keep the others from asking questions.

            Pam is confused, and Quinn is convinced that it’s all Eric’s fault, a fact he cannot deny. Their employees send rumors and gossip flying all over the city. The vampire gossip rags print “stories” about the wife of Shreveport’s most famous and powerful vampire, full of lies and innuendo and mean-spirited jibes. He wants to kill them all, and a few do go missing, enough to make the rags things twice about printing their trash, but the damage is already done.

            Things get so bad that she begins to turn from him in bed, and that sends him into a tailspin that almost sets off a killing spree the likes of which the world hasn’t seen since the Virginia Tech Massacre. Thankfully, the pragmatist and self-preservationist in him prevails, and he makes a phone call instead. Four nights later, Maria Piazzi and Izzy Raimo come into _Stackhouse’s_ to see his mate. He has never been so happy to see another human female so much in his life.

            He leaves the two women alone with his wife, blacking out the windows of the office as he hurries out. Emotions are careening in the bond like a ship in a November gale, but he stands guard at the top of the stairs and refuses to let anyone past him. He and John Quinn get into it, but he cannot blame the man. They both love Sookie, and they are both worried sick about her. This knowledge keeps him from hurting the weretiger too badly and from firing him for insubordination. The worst he does is send the man flying off the catwalk, breaking his leg, but Quinn will recover just fine. He only hopes his wife will do the same.

            He knows right away when the Soul Healer begins to weave her Gift. He does not need to hear the mournful notes of the violin to know that the Healing has begun because he can feel his own soul wrapped up in the magic along with his mate’s. Ten minutes later he is drawn to the office like a puppet on a string, and he enters the private area to find his wife curled on the carpet, weeping heaving, bitter sobs that wrack her entire body.

            He goes to her, wraps her in his arms, and weeps with her, unable to keep his own tears from falling and staining the carpet with their dark red blots. She clings to him, opening the bond and exposing the rotting wounds that have poisoned her spirit and darkened her soul. He holds her, entwining his body around her until he is covering her completely, as if he would absorb her into himself and keep her safe forever if he could. She is so tiny, tucked into his huge frame, that he thinks he could fit two of her in his chest alone. She’s lost so much weight that it breaks his undead heart, and they cry together for everything they have lost and all of their broken dreams.

            The music burns out the festering infection, but leaves the scars behind. Those will not be Healed in a single night, so the women stay as their guests; Maria’s bell-like laughter and Izzy’s witty sarcasm making his wife smile for the first time in weeks. Things are far from okay, but she is eating again, and interacting with the world again, and for the first time in three months, he feels hope.

            The women stay for five days, offering Sookie a support she has been lacking in the previous weeks. Maria and Izzy were the only ones outside of himself and the research team who knew what was really going on, and the outlet of having another set of ears to listen to her cry has been healing in and of itself. Maria’s music fills the house, and he even takes a turn at acoustic guitar because he **_can_** play, he just doesn’t do it often.

            When they leave, they are missed, but the effects of their visit are profound and lasting. Sookie isn’t completely healed, but she’s stopped shutting him out, and they’re facing the heartbreak together. It allows him to deal with his own feelings of grief at the loss of his unborn children, and they slowly begin to pick up the pieces.

 

            Four more months pass. Sookie finally musters enough strength to try again so they make the call to the clinic in Colorado, and an appointment is made to implant their last two embryos. They don’t drive, but they do make arrangements to stay in Boulder for two weeks after the procedure. He doesn’t know if staying put will make a difference, but he is willing to try, and he thinks keeping her in the relaxing environment of the St. Julien Hotel might be better than having her go back to the insane world of nightclub and vampire bar ownership.

            Who knows? Maybe it was the deep bass beat of the dance music that kept the embryos bouncing around her womb until they bounced right out. Stranger things have happened in his world. Maybe his children object to modern Acid Rock. He knows he does.

            By now all of the turmoil has made questions come from higher up, and he’s forced to have a very frank and honest conversation with the King of Louisiana, Nevada and Arkansas. Of all the things Felipe has been suspecting, what Eric actually tells him hasn’t even blipped on his radar. When he lets it be known to the King that all of the upset stems from the multiple failed attempts to impregnate Sookie with sperm that has been essentially resurrected from his own loins, all de Castro has to say is to keep him informed. Eric thinks the King is stunned, and he wouldn’t be surprised if he is, sometimes he can’t even believe it himself and he’s the one it’s happening to. Felipe promises complete secrecy until such time as they can celebrate a successful pregnancy.

            Sookie is a nervous wreck when they arrive at the clinic for the transfer, and it takes every bit of influence he has on her to keep her calm and focused while Dr. Xian implants the last two embryos into her womb. He watches the tube going in on the ultrasound screen, and he dares to make a desperate prayer.

_‘Please Hlin, my patron who has watched so diligently over me. Please bless us that this works. I don’t ask for me, but for my wife, who asks nothing of me but this one thing I have not been able to give her. Elena, sweet Goddess of Healing, please help my wife heal the empty place inside her that only a child can fill.’_

            He is no good at begging so he stops there, hoping that the Goddesses will not think him too greedy to ask for Their intersession, and looks down at his wife whose hands grips his desperately as her mind whirls in chaos. If this implantation doesn’t work, he does not know what it will do to her. If they want to try a fourth time, they will have to put her through the ordeal of harvesting more eggs, and he doesn’t know if he is strong enough to watch her go through that again after so much pain and disappointment.

            When it is over, he takes her back to their suite where she goes immediately to bed, and he doubts she will move anywhere unless it is absolutely necessary. He does not dare to ask for sex, even though he thinks it might help her relax, but he does hold her and sing to her, and she clings to him, her fingers curled into the folds of his shirt. They don’t speak, but there is no need for words between them. Everything is in the breathless silence and the sound of her heart thudding in his ears.

           

            She stays in bed for three full days, only getting up to go to the bathroom or to let the housekeeper change the sheets. She moves only as much as she has to and spends her time somewhere between sleeping and meditating. She might be praying, but he can’t be sure, and he does not feel comfortable asking. Both of them know that everything is riding on the two microscopic blobs of possibility floating around somewhere inside his wife’s uterus, and both of them are holding their proverbial breath. Thank the gods he doesn’t have to breathe.

            On the fourth day, when he wakes he notices that his mate’s scent has changed, and something deep and primal in him moves. All of his senses become hyper alert around her, and the very blood in his sluggish veins comes alive with a fire that tingles just under the surface of his skin. And he knows, he knows that this time it is different. And he knows that he will have to keep all other vampires away from his wife because they will know too, just as soon as they catch a whiff of her.

            Sookie smells like a breeding female.

 

            He’s afraid to say anything, but the knowledge sings in his soul like a valkyrie, and he wants desperately to grab her and spin her around while they jump for joy. In hindsight he should have known to trust his nose, but how was he to know that the scent would alter so quickly? It has been a mere 72 hours since the implantation, and he had no idea that her scent would change so soon.

            “What is it?” she asks, her voice sounding hollow in the silence.

            “Hmm? My lover?” he answers.

            _‘You’re crawling out of your skin. Are you desperately horny? I’m sorry, I can’t risk…’_

_‘Yes, I am horny, but I am not desperately horny. That is not something you should be worrying yourself with right now, my lover.’_

_‘Then what is it? I know it’s something. You can’t hide your feelings from me.’_

            He sighs. There are times (very few) when he wishes that their bond was not so strong. _‘It is nothing. It is just that your scent has changed. That is all.’_

 _‘My scent has changed? How?’_ Her voice is sharper now. She knows how keen his sense of smell is.

_‘It’s hard to describe.’_

_‘Did it change before… when I had the other transplants?’_

_‘No.’_

            Her mind is starting to whirr and she sits up, her eyes wild. _‘Eric, go get me a pregnancy test.’_

            He shakes his head. _‘We were warned those are not reliable. We must wait seven days and get a blood test done.’_

_‘I trust your nose. Now go get me a damn pregnancy test!’_

            She is so adamant and crazed that he can do nothing but obey, and so the great Eric Northman finds himself in an all-night drug store buying a grossly over-priced plastic stick for his wife to pee on. He wonders when he lost control of this situation as the clerk gives him a sly look until she has the good sense to realize he’s dead. The girl’s eyes open wide as he pulls back his upper lip and lets down his fangs, and she nearly pees on herself. He enjoys the rush of power and snags the bag with the pregnancy test, flying back to the hotel.

            Sookie practically rips the bag from his hand as he reappears on the balcony of their suite, and he finds himself in the unusual predicament of being locked out of the bathroom.

            “My lover?” he calls, tapping on the closed door.

            “Peeing!”

            _‘Well, I gathered that. Care to tell me why you’ve locked me out of the bathroom?’_

_‘…? You don’t have to pee.’_

_‘No, but wouldn’t you rather I be with you when you… get the results?’_

_‘Oh… Oh, sorry. Umm… Gimme a sec.’_

            Ten seconds later, he hears her approaching the door and the lock clicks off. He opens the door to find her sitting on the commode, staring at the little stick as if she can will the result to appear faster just by looking at it.

            “How long are we supposed to wait?” he asks, looming over and adding his own “vampire death glare” to the vigil.

            “Two to five minutes.”

            She sounds as if she has been running, but he knows that is just because she is nearly hyperventilating. Her free hand comes up and he immediately laces his fingers with hers as they wait. His nose cannot be wrong. He won’t let it be wrong.

            Color starts developing in the little circle of white paper on the plastic stick, and slowly a (+) sign becomes visible in vivid dark blue ink. Sookie gasps, her hand shaking.

            “It’s positive,” she chokes.

            He grunts an assent, gritting his teeth because she’s practically crushing his fingers. Not that she’s actually hurting him, but it isn’t comfortable.

            “Eric, it’s positive.”

            “We shouldn’t celebrate just yet, lover. We must wait for the blood test on Thursday.”

            “No. No, it’s different this time. You can smell it, and the test is positive. Eric. Eric, I’m pregnant.”

            She looks up at him, and he sees his wife again for the first time after seven long months of knowing part of her was missing. She is the most beautiful thing he’s ever seen.

            She lets him touch her, lets him love her very, very gently, and every move is made with full awareness that a new life is growing inside her that must be nurtured and protected. Afterwards, when she is sleeping the first peaceful, unhaunted sleep she’s had since this whole nightmare started, he goes out into the canyon and hikes up into the forest until he finds a suitable grove of trees. There he removes his shirt and kneels on the moss covered ground, his head bowed. His hand reaches up to lightly grasp his Thor’s Hammer and he begins to pray, offering his patron Goddesses his deepest and most heartfelt thanks. The Hammer flares, casting off its cloak of pewter, and shines bright silver in the darkness. He gets the message and tears slide down his face in relief and awe.

            Request received and approved.


	6. Chapter 6

Chapter Six

 

            By the time day seven rolls around, the scent of new life on his mate is almost overwhelming, and she is glowing with that look so many people say pregnant women have. The blood test to confirm the pregnancy is almost a formality because it’s so damn obvious. She’s beaming, he’s beaming, the doctors are beaming. Someone breaks out a bottle of champagne, but Sookie is good and doesn’t take a sip.

 _‘A little alcohol will be okay later, but right now, not taking any chances,’_ she says as she passes on the bubbly.

            He nods, agreeing, but offers her a sip of his blood instead in celebration. If it grosses out the doctors, he doesn’t give a damn, and her tongue flicks out to lick the small wound he made on his wrist. He closes his eyes and purrs with pleasure.

            “We’ll do an ultrasound on Monday,” Dr. Kalas says. “Another few days of gestation will give us a better view of the fetus.”

            “Will we be able to determine the sex of the baby?” his wife asks.

            “It’s too early to tell. Amniocentesis performed around the 14th week can determine the sex of the baby and make sure everything is progressing as normal,” the man replies.

            Sookie looks up at him, smiling, glowing, and takes his hand. She’s so happy she’s practically bursting with it.

            “Let’s go back to our room,” she suggests.

            “Yes, you should rest,” he answers.

_‘I wasn’t thinking of resting.’_

            He gives her a sly smile and offers his good-byes to the still celebrating team. This will make them even more famous than they already are, and money will come pouring into their clinic like the Great Flood. He smirks because they are behaving like they are the ones who have done all the work, when in reality they have done the least. But that is human nature and he can’t fault them their pride. He just wants to make sure they remember who the real hero is here, and he isn’t thinking about himself. All he did was let someone rummage around in his balls. Sookie is the one who will now carry the burden of bringing his son into the world. Hers is the real task, and no one should be allowed to forget it. He vows to himself that he will make sure no one does.

            Back in their suite, the atmosphere in the room is jubilant. He orders a lovers’ meal and runs a scented bath, then he feeds and bathes his mate and makes love to her gently. The doctors told them that sex is fine, but not to do anything that might be considered too strenuous, although by now their child should be well anchored to the uterine wall. Still, a little caution is not unreasonable, especially with the trouble they have had, and he doesn’t mind being careful because any lovemaking with his wife is a satisfying experience.

            When she is sleeping with a blissful expression on her face, he leaves the bed to make the necessary phone call to the King. Felipe knows today was the day of the blood test, and Eric is obligated to call with the results. He has no idea what the King will do with the news, but he hopes Felipe will know that it is too soon to crow it from the rooftops just yet.

            The number he has is the King’s private line, and Felipe answers on the third ring.

            “Speak,” the King orders as a greeting.

            “I have good news, Your Majesty. The implantation was successful.”

            “Your human is pregnant then, I assume.”

            “Yes.”

            “I will refrain from releasing the news just yet. Human women lose children all the time. We will wait until we know the child will be born alive.”

            He is relieved to hear that even if the King’s tone is cold. He’s glad his wife is asleep otherwise she would have been incensed by the conversation.

            “Yes, Your Majesty. That is a wise decision.”

            “Keep me informed.”

            “I will.”

            Felipe hangs up without saying goodbye, but that is normal, and he returns to bed for a snuggle and a bit of downtime. Even his daytime rest has been unsettled recently because his mate has been in such turmoil, and it is a relief to just be able to relax. He thinks that he will take her to Isle Elena early this year and make it an extended stay. It is October and they always go to the island in November for their anniversary. Given the circumstances, it would not be unwise for him to book their cabin for two weeks instead of the normal five days. He has the vacation time coming to him anyway. Before this whole ordeal started, he had not taken any time off save for those annual five days in ten years. Pam and Clancy run the bar quite well in his absence, and Quinn and Sookie’s assistant managers oversee _Stackhouse’s_ whenever his wife is not there.

            He scowls. He will have to tell Pam and those who are closest to them the truth. He won’t be able to hide the fact that Sookie is pregnant, but he can keep the detail that he is the father a secret until the baby is born. But Pam at least deserves the truth, and he knows his wife will want to tell the tiger and the shifter and her witchy best friend. He’ll draw the line at the brother, though. Jason Stackhouse couldn’t keep a secret if it was engraved on the inside of his throat and his mouth taped shut.

            He spends the rest of the night holding his wife and running through multiple plans in his head. The chessboard in his mind has now been set for a new game, but only the very first moves have been made. He is trying to see where the pawns and rooks will need to go in order for the knights to protect the queen.

            Sookie wakes up a couple of hours before dawn, and they make love again. He is glad to see that her libido is returning, and he remembers reading somewhere that he might be enjoying his wife’s attentions more often as her hormones start to kick in. He has no problems with that.

            Four days later they are back at the research facility for his wife’s first post-implantation ultrasound. The cameras are whirring away, and now there are two more doctors occupying the room: the Director and the Assistant Director of the facility.

            _‘Two suits,’_ he thinks, not even bothering to remember their names. At least they know protocol enough to know that vampires don’t usually shake hands.

            They blather at him about how excited they are and how grateful they are for his generosity and willingness to participate and blah, blah, blah. He maintains his composure and gives them a false smile when what he really wants to do is rip their throats out for yammering at him when all he wants to do is see his unborn child.

 _‘Now, now, honey. No rampaging in the halls allowed,’_ his wife chides playfully. She is in an exceptionally good mood tonight. He’d like to take some credit for it, but he knows he can’t.

            _‘Hmph. A little carnage might improve their manners.’_

_‘Somehow I doubt that.’_

            Finally things are ready, and Sookie lays down on the examination table. There is no need for her to undress because all that is required is for her to bare her lower abdomen for the ultrasound. He positions himself such that he can hold her hand and see the ultrasound screen as Dr. Xian lubes up his wife’s belly and starts gliding the paddle over her skin. He can make little sense from the grainy images as the group crowds around the screen, all vying for a vantage point, until Dr. Xian runs the sensor over the same area more than once. There are gasps and murmurs of shock and happiness.

            “Do you see what I see?” Dr. Xian asks him, a smile tugging at her lips.

            He does not want to admit that he can’t make hide or hair of the blobs on the screen, but he has no choice. “No.”

            Her smile widens and she runs the paddle over the same area again, looking at him expectantly. If she expects him to be hit with sudden understanding, she’s going to be disappointed.

            _‘There’s two,’_ he hears his wife send, and he realizes that she is picking up on the doctors’ thoughts.

            “There are two?” he offers cautiously.

            Dr. Xian grins and points to two tiny blobs sticking out from the thick uterine lining. “It appears that both transferred embryos implanted in the uterine wall, Mr. Northman. You’re having twins.”

            Sookie barks a laugh. “ ** _He’s_** having twins? Oh great, then maybe he can carry them instead, and gain all that weight and go through twice the labor.”

            He knows she is teasing so he smiles down at her. “I would if I could, my love, but the birth would be a **_bitch_**.”

            Everyone in the room laughs and there are congratulations all around. Dr. Xian nods her head, then continues with the examination. She seems to like what she sees.

            “Everything looks good, Mrs. Northman. I don’t see any abnormalities at this time. Once you are back home, your obstetrician there should perform frequent examinations to follow your progress, but right now, everything looks just as it should. You should have another ultrasound at six weeks so your doctor can see the gestational sacks and make sure everything looks normal.”

            Sookie gives her a beatific grin. “That’s wonderful news.”

            “We should be able to detect fetal heart rate at about five weeks. If the heart rates are good, we’ll have an indication of how well the babies are doing.”

            “Five weeks?” he repeats. “So soon? That’s only three weeks from now.”

            Dr. Xian nods. “Fetal heart beats typically can be detected at five weeks.”

            He stares at the tiny blobs on the screen. They are nothing now. Just two bumps, but in three weeks he will be able to hear his children’s heartbeats.

            “Oh.”

            _‘You look like someone just hit you in the back of the head with a board,’_ his mate says fondly.

_‘I feel like someone’s just kicked me in the groin.’_

_‘Ouch. Wasn’t me.’_

_‘Sookie… we’re having twins.’_ It almost defies belief. In as much as a vampire fathering a child defies belief.

_‘Yeah, I got that.’_

_‘Two babies. **Two!** ’_

_‘Yeah, now we’ll have to buy double of everything.’_

            The emotion in him is overwhelming, and it takes everything his has not to cry in front of these peons who have no right to witness his joy. Two babies. The third time really is a charm.

            There is more celebrating, more congratulations, after Sookie is allowed to get off the examination table, and the research team takes everyone out for a victory meal. He and Sookie are invited, but he begs off, citing personal reasons. The reality is that he finds himself growing increasingly protective of his wife, and there are simply too many people around them.

            In the car on the way back to the hotel, he feels his wife’s emotional state crash, and he thinks that it’s finally starting to hit her. She’s been far too calm and flippant since they got the news that she is carrying twins, and he was wondering when it was going to come to roost.

            “Eric…”

            “Yes, my lover?”

            “We’re having twins.”

            “Yes, Dear One, we are.”

            She falls silent, but her mind is whirring like a rodent on a wheel, and it’s getting her about as far as her thoughts spin in circles. She is ecstatic, but worried and frightened too. She hopes she is up to the task; she hopes she does not disappoint. She hopes she can live up to what is expected of her.

            “You are strong and courageous and beautiful,” he assures her. “You should not doubt yourself. You will do fine. You are not alone. I will help you. You will do us both proud.”

            He backs up his words with a flow of strength through the bond, and he takes his hand off the wheel so he can hold hers until they arrive back at their hotel. The valet comes to take the car, and he escorts his wife up to their room where she goes to take a shower because the ultrasound gel on her belly is making her feel dirty.

            Keeping a sharp ear out on her progress in the shower, he whips out his cell phone and dials Felipe’s number.

            “Speak.”

            “She is carrying twins, Your Majesty.”

            “Twins? This is confirmed?”

            “Yes, Your Majesty.”

            “Keep me informed.”

            “Of course, Your Majesty.”

            He hangs up and goes to join his wife in the shower. She needs someone to wash her back after all.

 


	7. Chapter 7

Chapter Seven

 

                The trip home four days later is a happy one. Now that the little ones have been anchored for two weeks, his wife is beginning to relax a little and feel more confident. Hope is fluttering in her chest again, two happy sets of wings beating in her womb, and he can feel them fluttering inside his own silent chest.

                Since he is becoming more and more territorial of his mate, he cancels the Anubis flight home and re-routes them on a human owned airline that is not likely to have too many vampires on it. It is a risk if there are flight delays, but he figures if he can get them to Dallas they can rent a car and drive the rest of the way if they have to. All goes well, however, and there are no problems getting back to Shreveport.

                The worst part of the trip was being the only vampire on the flight and causing quite a stir just by being there. Their poor flight attendant had never served a vampire before, and she had no idea what to do when he asked for a True Blood. Luckily, they were flying First Class, and the other attendant had some experience with the undead. There were some issues with errant thoughts from the passengers around them, ranging from anything to wondering how good he was in bed to the typical Hellfire and damnation themes. They were making his wife uncomfortable, and he helped her block them out by bolstering her shields.

                They arrive back home a scant hour before dawn, and go immediately to bed. That night they will have to begin telling those closest to them about Sookie’s condition, and begin to make plans for the future, but for now the flight was tiring and all his mate wants to do is sleep. He holds her close until the daytime stupor takes him, his hand resting lightly over her womb.

                Sookie is already up and dressed when he rises, which is a disappointment, but he understands her need to get things going. They have a lot to do in the next nine months, and his wife is most active when she is nervous. He always knows when something is upsetting her because he can smell the vinegar and bleach throughout the house. He finds her standing in “her” bedroom, a room that is solely hers, but that she rarely uses.

                “I’m thinking we can easily put two cribs in here and a changing table. And I’ll bring Gran’s old rocking chair up from her house,” she says without preamble when he comes into the room.

                Even though they spend nearly all of their time either here in Shreveport or in their secret Ruston nest, they have kept and maintained the Stackhouse homestead, of only for purely sentimental reasons. Bill Compton is the unofficial caretaker of the property, overseeing the necessary work that goes into keeping an older home in working order.

                He looks around the room, trying to envision the arrangement she is describing.

                “Will they not be with us? In my time, infants stayed with their parents until they were a number of years old. Then they slept with their siblings,” he states.

                “The baby slept with the mom and dad?”

                He shakes his head. “Not at first. The vagga… cradle would be next to the mother, but later, if there were no siblings… the baby would sleep with his parents.”

                “No such thing as separate bedrooms, huh?”

                “Ah… no, not really. I slept with my brothers until I went off to battle. In fact… before I was turned, I’d never slept alone, ever.”

                “Really?” she asks, and stray thought escapes her mind, _‘Well, that explains the cuddling fetish…’_

                He shrugs, ignoring her thought. How can he explain to her how it feels for a vampire to be pressed up against a warm, fragrant body, especially if that body belongs to a Beloved?

                “There was no such thing as privacy. Families shared a one or two room house. Multiple generations lived in long houses. Grandparents, parents, children all under one roof. Our house was bigger than most because my father was chieftain, but still… our home was four rooms instead of two.”

                She thinks about this for a moment. “So… you’d want the babies in our room with us.”

                “Would that not be easier? Little ones need feeding and looking after. Is it not better to have them close at hand?”

                “Babies smell and cry a lot, Eric.”

                He gives her his best “So what?” look, and reminds her that what counts as smelly to a human is far different than what a vampire considers to be rank. “My nose is far more sensitive than yours, my love.”

                “Yeah, that’s my point. Won’t the smell drive you crazy?”

                He can make a comment about her flatulence after she has fatty foods, but refrains because he knows it will not be received well.

                “I will be fine, my lover,” he assures her.

                “What about when they cry?”

                “It will be a beautiful sound.”

                That chokes her up, and her eyes swim with tears. “Really?”

                He smiles and goes to her, taking her into his arms and kissing her hair. “Really.”

                “Oh Eric. I can’t believe this is happening,” she murmurs into his chest.

                “Believe it, because it is.”

                She sniffs and gets herself together, pulling away. “We’ll need to think of names.”

                “There is time to decide on that. Let’s wait until we know what we are having before we discuss names.”

                She nods. “Okay. That’s a good idea, but I was thinking Adele if we have a girl. For my Gran.”

                “It was custom in my time to name a child after a parent or an honored relative who had died, in hopes that giving the child the name would also transfer the good qualities of the namesake.”

                “Wow. So, are you named after your father?”

                “Yes. Nine days after I was born, I was presented to my father at a public feast. He sprinkled water on my forehead and gave me my name.”

                “So, if we have a boy, you’d want him to be named Eric?”

                “Not necessarily. My father named me Eric to give himself immortality, just as his father had named him Eric. I already have that.” Actually his name had been Erikir, but that isn’t important. The sentiment is the same.

                She smiles and gives him a tender look. “Well, that’s true. Do you have any names in mind?”

                He shakes his head. “I haven’t thought that far ahead, lover. Right now, I am concentrating on how and what we are going to tell everyone. We won’t be able to hide your pregnancy for very long, and we won’t be able to hide it from other vampires at all.”                  “We should tell Pam the truth. She’s gonna know anyway once we go public after the babies are born, and she’ll be upset that we didn’t trust her if we don’t.”

                “I agree. As my Second, she should be informed. I was also thinking that you would want to trust the tiger, your old shifter boss, and your Wiccan friend with the truth.”

                “And Claudine. She should know.”

                He raises a finger in caution. “What Claudine knows, Niall knows. That could get… complicated if fairies find out vampires are trying to breed.”

                “But vampires already do breed,” she argues. “They make new vamps all the time, and female vamps can use their eggs to make a baby if they have a surrogate.”

                “That is different. There are far more male vampires with female human lovers who would want a child, than there are female vampires who are willing to go through the egg harvest process. The fairies could very well see this new development as a threat. We must be cautious, my lover. I do not want you at further risk than you already are.”

                She waves him off. “Yeah, yeah. Wife of head honcho vamp is a big target. I know that already. I’ve lived it for ten years, remember?”

                He puts a hand on her arm. “I remember, but _pregnant_ wife of head honcho vamp is an even _bigger_ target. Do not take the risk lightly. There is a real danger here.”

                He can feel her anger and knows she’s going to put up a fight.

                “You are not going to go all Alpha-male, cave-vamp on me. I will not be treated like a prized possession that needs to be kept under lock and key. I am my own woman, buster, and you’d better not forget it!”

                He raises his eyes to the ceiling and prays for patience because stubborn, aggravating Sookie has just reared her ugly head. If he does not handle this properly, it could degenerate into an all-out, knock down fight, and he does not want her under that kind of stress. Luckily, he’s had ten years of handling his wife when she is like this, and he knows the best way to get out of it.

                “My lover… do you acknowledge that I may understand the risks better than you because of my experience?”

                She hears his ire in his tone of voice, but nods. “I do, but you have to admit that this is new ground for everyone.”

                “Not really. Before the Great Revelation, it was not unheard of for a vampire to breed his human female to a still living male relative, preferably a full-brother,” he replies.

                She blinks at him. “Oh.”

                He continues when he thinks she is ready to hear him. “These arranged pregnancies were considered perverse, and often the other vampires in the area would attack that vampire’s nest, killing the vampire and his female. While attitudes have changed greatly, I am sure there are a number of old vampires with out-dated mindsets who would consider what we have done to be disgusting. Not to mention my many enemies who would love to hurt me by killing you and our unborn children. And… I hate to add this, my lover, but… you smell delicious, and the scent of the life inside you is a powerful lure.”

                He sees her eyes widen as his words hit home, and she visibly shudders. “So… I should stay out of Fangtasia, huh?”

                “That would be a wise idea. Even vampires who have known you for years will be a danger to you.”

                She winces. “Bill? Felicia? No, not her, she has a baby of her own with her lover, Carrie.”

                “Those closest to you should be alright. They are well used to resisting the call of your blood. Compton, Pam… those two can probably be trusted. Felicia for the reasons you speak of, and Indira as well, but…”

                “Clancy, Maxwell Lee, Thalia, Bernard, Abraham, Peter, and Jessica probably can’t,” she finishes for him, rattling off the names of the vampires she knows the most.

                He nods. “Among others. Please forgive me in advance if I am overprotective of you.”

                “You’re always overprotective, I just don’t want you putting me under house arrest with two demon goon bodyguards who won’t let me go to the bathroom by myself,” she snipes peevishly.

                He smiles, but she’s given him an idea. “Would you consent to a female Britlingen as both bodyguard and midwife?”

                That stops her short. “What?”

                “You have expressed a desire for a live-in female to assist you with the pregnancy and birth, and child-care afterwards, which I feel will be an even bigger issue now that we are having twins. There are Britlingen females who are trained to guard high profile female clients while they are pregnant. They guard the expectant mother, assist her with the birth if needed, and protect the new mother and her infant. You got on well with the Britlingens you met in Rhodes. Would one to guard and help you be acceptable to you?”

                “I thought they were really expensive,” she says shrewdly.

                “They are, but they are worth the price. As you know, the King of Kentucky survived the bombing of the Pyramid of Gizeh hotel unscathed.”

                “True. But… Batanya and Clovache were really scary.”

                “They were meant to be, but there are other, less conspicuous Britlingens who are just as deadly, but much more low-key.”

                She bites her lip, pensive, and crinkles her nose, which tells him she’s really thinking. Having a Britlingen in the house for several months to a year – and possibly longer – is not a prospect he is looking forward to, but he will do it if necessary.

                “I’ll have to think about it, okay?”

                He gives her a deep nod. “In the meantime, would you accept some… precautions that I would like you to take?”

                She sets her jaw and crosses her arms, but she doesn’t go into a snit. “Let me hear them and I’ll see what I think.”

                “Firstly, as you have already figured out, staying out of Fangtasia is a very smart thing to do. Please do not come to the bar unless you are escorted by either myself or Pam.”

                “Okay, that’s reasonable.”

                “Secondly, do not schedule any vampire bands for _Stackhouse’s_ until after the babies are born.”

                “What about bands that are already on the calendar?” she counters.

                “They can stand, but I would request that you not attend those performances or set foot in the club on those nights.”

                She thinks about that, then nods slowly. “Okay. I can see the logic of that. Vamp bands bring in vamp crowds, and me being there would be like putting a wounded fish in the middle of a tank of sharks.”

                “Exactly. Your safety and the safety of our unborn children are our utmost priority. Do not do anything that you think would expose yourself or the little ones to danger,” he states. “Thirdly, do not go anywhere alone. Not even to the mall to go shopping. Have someone with you at all times when you leave the house. I would prefer if it were someone who could defend you if necessary. I would volunteer the tiger if you do not object.”

                “Quinn already has a full-time job as head of security at the club,” she argues.

                “He can relegate to an assistant if he feels he cannot do both. I will assign Pam to guard you on the nights when Quinn is off. Unless you decide to accept the Britlingen, of course.”

                “We’ll talk to him about it and see what he says. Maybe I’ll talk to Alcide and see if he has any Weres in his pack who might be willing to play bodyguard.”

                He swallows his initial reaction to snarl and bare his teeth at the prospect of a Werewolf getting anywhere near his pregnant wife. Since the Weres and shifters came out of the closet, relations among the different Supernaturals are still strained but improving. The Shreveport Packmaster is a friend, and, more importantly, Sookie is a twice Friend of the Pack. If a Were is sent to guard his mate, and something happens to her, it would reflect poorly on the entire pack, so anyone Herveaux would send would be strong and vigilant. It’s not optimal, but if she will accept the protection he shouldn’t put up a fuss.

                “I know you aren’t too happy about Weres getting near me. I can feel that, but it’d be a lot cheaper than hiring a Britlingen,” his wife says.

                Now he does snarl. “Money is no object, and I will pay anything to keep you safe. Do not bring finances into this. We have plenty of money.”

                She backs off because she knows she’s struck a sore spot. He has had power and wealth for the better part of six centuries while she was born just one step above poor and having money is still a novelty to her. She still thinks like a penny-pincher, and most of the time that is an admirable quality in her, but right now, when the need is much more important than a price tag, she must understand that money is only useful for what it can buy, and their children’s safety is worth any cost.

                “Okay. Okay,” she says, putting up her hands. “I get it.”

                He breathes sharply through his nose, calming down. “Thank you. Do you want the Britlingen or should I wait to contact an intermediary witch?”

                “Umm, why don’t you start making inquiries? Contact whomever you need to and try to find out some details. I’d want to… y’know, interview whoever would be hired. It would have to be someone I can get along with. It’s not like I’d need her for a couple of weeks. She’d be around for a while.”

                He nods in agreement. “Very well. I will make some calls. In the meantime, will you please take the precautions I have asked for?”

                “Yes. You haven’t asked anything unreasonable.”

                He bows his head to her and moves forward. The argument is over and he is now tacitly allowed to touch her.

                “Thank you,” he whispers into her hair as he holds her close, breathing in the delectable scent of her. It makes him feel wicked.

_‘How about we make use of this bed before we replace it with beds that are far too small for us?’_

                She snickers because she was thinking much the same thing, and she reaches up to kiss him slow and deep.

                Three hours later, they are still at home, but for reasons other than pleasure. Phone calls have been made and requests have been put forth for Pam, Quinn, Compton (his mate insisted on telling both of her exes the truth, much to his displeasure), Sam Merlotte and the witch to come to their house for an important private meeting. Had the meeting been with anyone but their closest allies, they would have met at the penthouse apartment he rents just for the convenience of having a private place to meet. They are hardly ever there, and they have never slept there, but he pays to keep it clean and ready should they need to use it.

                His mate takes it upon herself to tidy up and make some refreshments for the coming guests, and he does not try to stop her. This is her Southern upbringing coming out, and she takes great pride in her hospitality. Even elder vampires who feel nearly all humans are worthless, have commented on his mate’s manners and attention to custom.

                The tiger arrives first because he is closest, and Eric has an opportunity to test his theory that shifters will smell his mate’s pregnancy the same as vampires will. He is proved correct because Quinn’s nostrils flare, and he stares wild-eyed at Sookie in horror.

                “What have you done?” the tiger asks in disbelief, but his mate only frowns sadly and shakes her head.

                “I’m not saying anything until the others get here coz I’m only gonna tell it once,” she answers firmly. “Can I get you a drink?”

                “Southern Whiskey, straight up.”

                “You’re working tonight,” he reminds, letting the warning slip into his voice.

                Quinn casts him a hateful glare. “I’ll burn it off. But if you’re gonna tell me what I **_think_** you’re gonna tell me, I need a drink.”

                Sookie nods and goes to the minibar in the family room to pour her ex-boyfriend his drink. In the time it takes her to walk back with the tumbler of liquor, the doorbell rings and it is the witch and his mate’s former boss. He watches carefully as the shifter takes a sniff of the room, and Sam’s eyes open wide.

                “Wanna drink?” Quinn offers the shifter, a wry, bitter look on his face.

                “Uhhh,” Sam stammers, and his eyes meet Sookie’s.

                _‘He knows too,’_ he sends to his wife.

 _‘Yeah,’_ she agrees, her mindvoice sad and resigned. She knew there were people in her life who would not be happy for her, but she refuses to cut them out, so she must deal with the pain of the wounds they inflict upon her. He’d kill them, if he could, but her kind heart stays his hand.

                “Okay, so what’s the big news that I had to find a sitter for Trevor last minute and drag my ass over here?” Amelia asks.

                He smiles. The little witch always was direct and to the point.

                Sookie gives her a tender smile as she hands her old boss a glass of the same drink the tiger is having.

                “We’re still waiting for Bill and Pam. Pam was sent to Bon Temps to fetch him, but they should be here soon. Then I’ll tell everyone all at once.”

                “ ** _We_** will tell everyone, my lover,” he corrects gently.

                “You’re pregnant,” Amelia blurts, then covers her mouth in shock at Sookie’s surprised look. “Oh my goddess! You **_are_** pregnant! Sookie! Oh my goddess!”

                His mate frowns and motions for her friend to take a seat. “I’ll tell you all about it once Pam and Bill get here.”

                Still looking at his wife as if she were a monster with two heads, they sit in the living room, backs straight, bodies tense, and he is seriously considering removing some heads if they don’t quit their scowling soon. He moves to stand at Sookie’s shoulder, offering her his strength and support. She slides her fingers into his and leans a bit towards him, her mind disappointed and quietly grieving.

_‘They hate what I’ve done. They think I’m insane, and they don’t even know you’re the father yet.’_

                He squeezes her hand in answer, sending his love across the bond.

                _‘Why can’t anyone be happy for me, Eric? Just once? I’ve been with you for ten years, and they still think you’re going to kill me, or betray me, or grow tired of me.’_

_‘They do not know the depth of our bond, my love. They do not understand that I would sooner stake myself than cause harm to you.’_

                She sighs and melts into him, sliding an arm around his back as he wraps one of his around her shoulders.

                “Why don’t you sit down, my love?” he offers tenderly, urging her towards a plush chair.

                “Yeah,” she agrees and lowers herself into the seat. She looks tiny in it, and he scowls at the three so-called friends on the sofa.

                “I will bring you something to drink. Tea?”

                Sookie’s head comes up and she looks from him to the witch. He mentally rolls his eyes and tightens his jaw.

                “Tea, Amelia?” he asks, managing not to hiss it out between his clenched teeth.

                “Umm, sure. Thanks, Eric.”

                He stalks off to the kitchen to brew some tea.

                _‘How did I get so whipped?’_ he bemoans to himself as he puts mugs filled with water into the microwave.

                “I’m sorry. I’m being a bitch, aren’t I?” he hears the witch apologize. It’s amazing how many people forget that a vampire has highly acute hearing. “I should be happy for you. I know how much you’ve wanted to have your own baby. I shouldn’t be so judgmental and down on your happiness.”

                He sighs and brews the tea.

                Five minutes later he brings out a tea service with two mugs of steeping tea and the requisite cream and sugar. He is heartily glad none of his minions are there to see it, and Quinn knows repayment of his debt to the Las Vegas vampires (and his continued cushy job at _Stackhouse’s_ ) hangs on him keeping his mouth shut.

                “Thanks, honey,” his mate says as he sets the tray on the cocktail table. She knows him better than to think he’ll serve anyone but her, so she offers the second mug to her friend.

                The doorbell rings, and he already knows it his Pam and Compton because he heard the rumble of Compton’s car in the driveway. That means Pam ran to Bon Temps, but that is not unusual. He opens the door to admit his child and his underling. Bill looks very displeased for all of two seconds before he gets his first whiff of Sookie’s scent.

                Both vampires freeze in the entryway, their eyes dilated and their nostrils flaring as their fangs come down. He growls low in his throat, warning. Behind him, he hears the tiger and the shifter stand and get into defensive positions. Good.

                “Get a hold of yourselves. Both of you,” he orders.

                Two sets of feral eyes search out his mate and lock on her like lions hunting prey. He drops his fangs and growls louder.

                “If you want to continue your undead existences, you will retract your fangs and get control of yourselves **_now._** ”

                Pam is the first to pull herself back from the edge, and she does so with a shake of her head and a snort. Compton is slower to react, but he watches guardedly as his minion suppresses his bloodlust and comes back to himself.

                “Master,” Pam says, bowing her head.

                “Pam,” he says coolly, then flicks his eyes to Compton.

                “Sheriff.”

                “Are both of you sufficiently in control?” he asks, his fangs still down.

                “I am,” Pam confirms. Her fangs have been retracted.

                “I am,” Bill adds. His have not.

                He gives Compton a long, hard stare until the other vampire’s fangs recede. When they do, he nods and takes a step back, allowing them further into the house.

                “Pam, there are two True Bloods already pulled out. They are in the kitchen,” he says over his shoulder as he walks towards his mate.

                Pam does not need to be told what to do. She goes immediately into the kitchen and she returns with the two heated synthetic bloods. By now, the rest of them have gathered in the living room. He is standing at his wife’s side while the three non-vampires have resumed their seats on the couch. Compton opts to remain standing, placing himself as far away from Sookie as possible yet still be in the room. When his child comes back with the True Bloods, she gives one to Bill and then sits in the chair opposite Sookie with her own drink.

                Their guests look at them expectantly, and he gives his mate a mental nudge. _‘Do you wish to begin or shall I?’_

 _‘No, I’ll do it.’_ “I guess there’s no need to tell you why we asked you here tonight,” she says aloud. “As I am sure you have already figured out, I’m pregnant. What you don’t know, and why we’ve called you all here to give you the news in private, is that Eric is the father.”

                Pandemonium breaks out as five voices all clamor to be heard at once. The witch is babbling something about impossibilities, Pam and Bill are looking to him in abject shock, the weretiger and the shifter are cursing and demanding to know how it happened. He finally roars for silence and not even the falling dust dares to make any noise.

                “One at a time, please,” his wife finally states.

                “Was it Niall? Was fae magic involved?” the witch asks.

                “No. No magic. Eric and I are part of a research project that is developing a way to use immature sperm left behind in a male vampire’s testicles to create living sperm that can get a woman pregnant,” she replies.

                In the stunned quiet, Sookie explains everything, detailing the sperm and egg harvest procedures, what the researchers did to put his DNA into another man’s emptied sperm, and then the ordeal of IVF with their two failures and now hopeful success.

                “So you’re carrying twins?” Amelia asks.

                “For now,” Quinn mutters.

                He snarls a vicious warning. “Nothing is happening to my children.”

                “Yes, I am carrying twins. Both embryos implanted. I’m two weeks along.”

                “Oh my goddess. This is going to blow vampire breeding right out of the water,” the witch comments. “I have no idea what I am going to tell Trey.”

                “You will tell Trey nothing. No one is to know the truth about Sookie’s pregnancy until the babies are born,” he states harshly.

                “He’s right. This is a huge secret, you guys. It’s proof of how much I love and trust you that I’m telling you the truth. But you can’t let anyone know what you know. Me being pregnant is dangerous enough,” his wife adds.

                “The Fellowship of the Sun will make her their primary target,” Pam points out.

                “Yes. What are you going to do to protect her from those zealots?” the shifter demands.

                “That’s part of why we called you here tonight,” Sookie replies. “We’re going to need all y’all’s help. At least until a more permanent solution can be found.”

                “I am to begin negotiations to bring across a Britlingen warrior midwife, but she will not be in place for several weeks at least. In the meantime, I will need you to help fill in for the times when I cannot be with Sookie.”

                “Quinn…  we were… **_I_** was hoping you could help keep an eye on me during the day and when I’m at the club. It won’t be all the time. I’m gonna put in a call to Alcide and see if he has any Weres in his pack that he trusts enough to be my bodyguards,” his mate says.

                Both the tiger and the shifter growl at the same time.

                “You are not letting Werewolves anywhere near you,” Quinn says.

                “Weres aren’t a good idea, Sooks. They’re too violent and unpredictable,” the shifter warns.

                “Well, I’m gonna need someone, and you’re just one person, Quinn, and you’ve got the job at _Stackhouse’s_. You can’t be in two places at once,” Sookie argues.

                “I can stay with you a couple of days a week,” Sam offers.

                “I’ll talk to my coven about making some very powerful protective charms,” Ameila adds.

                “There’s already a Level 4 shield on this house and on the one in Bon Temps. I’m not too worried about anything getting in here. We’re much more concerned about when I leave the house.”

                There is a Level 6 shield on the Ruston House, but that nest remains their secret.

                “Pam. I am assigning you to guard Sookie on the nights when I must be at Fangtasia,” he commands his child.

                “Yes, Master,” she agrees without hesitation.

                “Compton. If Pam is unable to perform her duties, I expect you to take her place. Will you be able to control yourself enough to do it?”

                He sees Compton give Sookie a tortured, wounded look before he nods. “I will do it. I can… control myself.”

                “Good. It is settled then. Until such time as a Britlingen is hired, days will be split between Quinn and Sam Merlotte – I will leave it to you two to work out the schedule – and nights will be myself, Pam and Bill Compton. I will discuss the arrangement with you privately tonight. As for right now, Quinn are you willing to keep guard over her while she goes to the club?”

                “Yes.”

                “Good. That is all. I will remind you that you are all sworn to secrecy. One peep of rumor that the children are mine, and I will know who is responsible.”

                “Wait. Who else knows about this?” the witch asks.

                “Those of us in this room, the research team at the clinic we went to, and the King of Nevada, Louisiana and Arkansas,” he answers.

                “And Izzy and Maria,” his mate pipes in.

                He looks at her questioningly. “You called them then.”

                She nods. “They’ve known from the beginning. It was only right.”

                “The Soul Healer came to help you after you had lost the baby. That’s why she was here,” Quinn comments, more to himself than anyone.

                “Yes. After I lost the second pair of embryos,” she confirms, placing a hand over her womb. “I was… in a bad way. Eric called Maria to help me.” She looks up at him. “Maria knows something of high risk pregnancy. I should call her and ask her about some of the things she did to make sure she stayed safe. Zolan has a lot of enemies.”

                _‘Better to talk to Izzy. She is the one who would have dealt with the threats,’ he corrects._

_‘True.’_

                “Is everyone clear then? Our goal is to keep Sookie safe until I can hire a Britlingen. Are there any questions?”

                Five sets of eyes look to him, but no one utters a word. He gives them all a short nod.

                “Very well. This meeting is adjourned. Thank you for coming. Pam, Compton, I will see you in my office at Fangtasia in forty minutes.”

                “Yes, Master,” his child replies, rising to her feet and giving a look to Bill. Compton nods to her and takes a few steps forward. He detours, however, and goes to stand before Sookie.

                Eric can see the tension he is under, the fine tremors that shudder through Bill’s body as he clenches his fists. Sookie has no idea the amount of control Compton is having to exert over his basal nature. She just looks up at her former lover with an innocent smile.

                “I would like to speak with you privately at a later time, if that would be acceptable to you,” Bill says to her.

                It is a huge breach of protocol for him to address another vampire’s blood bonded in such a manner, but it is no secret that Sookie conducts her own affairs. Compton knows it, too, because he casts a guilty eye-flick his way.

                _‘Cocky asshole,_ ’ he sends to his mate.

                He can hear her laughter across the bond _. ‘But isn’t he always? He delights in passive resistance.’_

_‘Hmmph. That’s how he survived the Civil War.’_

_‘The War of Northern Aggression, if you please,’_ she corrects haughtily.

_‘I was a Yankee.’_

_‘That’s grounds for annulment, you know.’_

_‘Then our children will be born bastards.’_

_‘Perish the thought! What will the ladies at the Social Club think? It’ll be such a scandal!’_ she teases, then gives Bill a reproachful look. “Bill Compton, you know you’re doing wrong, but I’ll talk to you in my office later tonight.”

                Bill bows deeply to her, and gives him a head nod and cursory “Sheriff” before following Pam out the front door.

                “I’m gonna go too, Sookie,” the witch says, standing up and giving his wife a hug. “I really am happy for you, hon. And I hope everything goes smoothly from here on.”

                Sookie smiles a beautiful, happy smile. “Thanks, Amelia. It’s scary, but we’ve gotten through the first hurdle. There’s a bunch more, but I know I can do it.”

                “I’ll help you in any way I can.”

                “I know you will, sweetie. You have a safe trip back home.”

                “I came over with Sam. He’s gonna drop me off.”

                The shifter stands and offers Sookie a tentative hug.

                “Oh Sam,” she breathes.

                “Congratulations, Sookie. I’m not happy about this whole thing in general, but I’m happy for you. I know you’ve really wanted this for a long time.”

                She gives her old boss another of her winning smiles. “Thank you, Sam.”

                “Quinn and I will work out a schedule, but you’ll probably see me on Wednesday.”

                She nods. “Okay. I’ll see you then.”

                The two leave, and all that is left is the tiger.

                “I don’t think I need to tell you how bad of an idea it is to allow William Compton to be alone with Sookie when he comes by the club tonight,” he states.

                “Eric! Bill is not going to hurt me!”

                “He’s right, Sookie,” Quinn corrects. “That vamp was barely hangin’ on to his control. There’s no way I’m gonna let him be alone with you.”

                “It’s good we understand each other, tiger,” he says.

                Quinn gives him a baleful glare. “I’m not doing this for you.”

                “I don’t care why you do it, just so long as you do,” he responds.

                “Enough with the male posturing!” his mate huffs, rising to her feet. “ _You!_ ” She points to him. “You get yourself to Fangtasia and quit your puffing. I’m sure I’ll see you later, probably about 2 seconds after Bill leaves. Oh, you’re going to follow him to the club and lurk on the upper gangway. Don’t even bother trying to deny it. I know you. And _you!_ ” She points to the tiger. “You wait here while I get dressed for work, and I don’t want to hear another bad word or thought about my husband or my choices out of you. Got it? Not a peep!”

                “Yes, ma’am,” the tiger agrees.

                It was all anyone can say when Sookie Northman nee Stackhouse gets her panties in a twist. They both watch as she storms off, then share an understanding look.

                “Hormones,” they say in unison.

                “It’s only gonna get worse. My mom was hell when she was carrying Frannie,” Quinn tells him.

                “Hmmph. Modern women must be soft. My mother carried eight of us with nary a word of complaint.”

                “Hmmph.”

                “Well, I’d best get myself to _Fangtasia_ before she returns. I will see you later.”

                “See you on the gangway.”

                “If not sooner.” Of course he was going to be there. Did his wife honestly think he would allow her to meet with Compton without him within close range? Hormones hadn’t warped her judgment yet.

                “Right.”

                With a little mental caress to his peeved mate, he took his leave, but not before her mind brushed against his in a silent, if not a little contrite, touch good-bye. He smiles to himself and makes his way out to the garage. He might not like Quinn, but he knows his wife was in capable hands until he can return to her side.


	8. Chapter 8

Chapter Eight

 

            As it turns out, the cost of hiring a Britlingen warrior midwife has gone up considerably, and the price of the down payment alone would make his wife choke. But he pays it to the witch, giving her his specifications for what he wants and needs with the guarantee that the payment will be returned – minus the witch’s finder’s fee – should an acceptable candidate not be found. She takes the information and promises to have an answer for him within three weeks. That is fine with him because he is not in any particular rush to get the alternate dimensional bodyguard because the team he has created to protect his wife is working out very well.

            He never did find out what it was that Compton had wanted on the night he wished to meet with Sookie in private. He had been there, of course, on the catwalk above her office, and the tiger had been in the office with them, but the windows had been blacked out, and anything Compton had had to say to Sookie had been done mentally. Bill was one of the two vampires outside of himself who knew Sookie could read vampire minds, with Pam being the other.

            Compton had relayed his message to Sookie silently, and Sookie had respected her ex’s desire for secrecy by blocking out his attempts to “listen” in. When he interrogated her later, all she would tell him was that it had been a private conversation between two adults, and that there was nothing for him to be concerned with. He didn’t really believe that, but he tried to show his respect and trust in her by not kidnapping Bill and torturing him until he spilled the beans.

            Since their meeting, however, Bill has been in much better control of himself when he is around Sookie, so he cannot be unhappy by whatever it was that they discussed.

            In addition to the shifter, the tiger, Pam, Bill and himself, there is a sixth member of the team whose presence was completely unexpected. Two days after his wife called Maria and Izzy to ask them for advice on how best to stay alive during her high-profile pregnancy, Maria’s son, Vincent, knocked on their door.

            Seventeen now, and every bit his father’s son, he is already a powerful Level 8 demon, and he volunteered himself when he heard of Sookie’s need. Having been an integral part of his wife’s friendship with the two women over the past decade, Vincent is fond of Sookie and also considers the assignment good training and practice for his own self-defense, and the continued defense of his mother. Even though he is no longer a helpless child, he and Maria are still prime targets for Zolan’s enemies so anything that helps him hone his abilities is considered an advantage.

            Eric admits to being skeptical at first, but he soon changed his mind once he tested the boy’s fighting skills. The ability to throw several different types of fireballs of varying destructive force notwithstanding, Vincent’s sword skills are impressive, as is evidenced by how much of a fight he put up when Eric came after him with a broadsword from the den.

            Their sparring match encompassed the entire house, the backyard and even the street in front of their Shreveport home. Sparks flew from the clash of blades because Vincent had grabbed a sword from the wall as well; a lighter Japanese katana that he wielded like it was an extension of his own arm. Sookie spent much of the match yelling for them to stop, but both of them were having too much fun to listen to her.

            There is a poetry to the dance of swords, to the heft and swing of the deadly blade, and each of them knew the stanzas of the Ode well. They flitted around each other, neither pressing nor giving quarter as they each tried to draw first blood, and he learned that the boy is fast and light on his feet. Vincent has his mother’s wiry build, and lean, flexible body, and he knows how to use it against a much larger opponent. They are gleeful as they fight, each blocking and parrying, spinning and whirling in a flash of metal and skin.

            He wins, but it is a close match. Vincent misjudges a jump, and he manages a score a small slice on the boy’s ankle. The cut is superficial, but it counts as first blood so that means he is the victor. He lowers his sword and Vincent yields, huffing, but flush with excitement.

            “You’ll do,” he declares, and accepts the boy as the sixth member of the team.

            Vincent and Quinn are now the primary daytime guards, and the boy stays in their other guest room while an in-laws’ apartment is being added on to the garage. It’s a bit of a sticky arrangement because technically Vincent isn’t old enough to set foot in _Stackhouse’s_ or _Fangtasia_ , but what’s a little corruption of minors among demons? A fake ID and a winning smile, and no one is the wiser. Vincent looks older than his age, anyway.

            There is another benefit to having the half-demon teen in the house. Like his mother, he is a talented musician. He possesses none of Maria’s Healing talent, but he can play multiple instruments with expert skill, and he is very good at using music to soothe and calm Sookie when she is stressed. Plus he has Izzy’s dry sense of humor, and he makes Sookie laugh. It is not as good as having Maria and Izzy there themselves, but the boy tries, and his presence brightens Sookie’s days. Even Quinn likes the boy, and he’s caught them sparring because Vincent is always looking for new ways to improve his fighting skills.

            Eric himself is considering giving Vincent weaponry lessons. He considers it practice for when he is teaching his own son how to wield a blade. His wife chides him because they still do not know if she is carrying boys or girls or one of each, but he teases her and says he will make any girls of his into warrior princesses. She responds that if she ever finds a Xena outfit in any of their daughters’ closets, she will personally chakram his ass.

 

            He wakes on the evening of November 4th to a feeling of jubilant anticipation. It is five days until their tenth anniversary, and they are leaving tonight for Isle Elena for their annual vacation. All of the arrangements have been made for them to stay an extended ten days on the island, and everything is in place for the businesses to be looked after in their absence. Vincent is also leaving tonight to go back to Virginia, but he will be back after November 20th, and by then they should have heard back from the witch about the Britlingen midwife.

            He always looks forward to their time away, but this year is particularly special because he owes homage to his patron Goddesses, and he plans to spend a great deal of time in the chapel on the island making prayers and offerings. His wife will be beside him. He has taught her the old invocations and rituals. They will perform a ceremony of thanks and homage to Hlin in the shrine – without the animal sacrifice.

            He would have liked to have stayed a full two weeks on Isle Elena, but Sookie is scheduled for her next ultrasound on the 16th, and she does not want to miss it. She is almost four weeks along now, and soon he should be able to hear his babies’ heartbeats. He listens for them every night, pressing his ear to her belly while she holds her breath, but so far there is no pulse except his mate’s. Soon though. Soon he will hear the thump-thump-thump of the tiny hearts growing inside his wife’s womb.

            A loud knock on the bedroom door disturbs them from their comfortable snuggling in the warm nest of their bed. They are both naked and curled around each other – his favorite way to rise – and parts of him are already awake and demanding satisfaction.

            _‘Yo! I know you guys are awake. It’s just past sunset and your plane leaves in an hour. You guys need to get up and get to the airport. You can suck face and stuff later when you have more time,’_ Vincent’s mindvoice calls. He is a powerful telepath, and his thoughts come through loud and clear.

            “He obviously doesn’t know us very well if he thinks we don’t have time to make love before we have to be at the airport,” he comments, nuzzling one perfect breast.

            His wife chuckles and threads her fingers into his hair to encourage him. “He’s only been here a week. Give him time. He’ll learn.”

            “Hmmph,” he murmurs, drawing the nipple into his mouth.

            He hears his wife send a mental reply to the boy, and the boy’s exasperated answer, but Vincent leaves them alone and stalks to the kitchen. He never knew teenagers could eat so much, but that is also good practice for raising hungry human children. He barely remembers his human years, but he knows his appetites were ravenous. Right now, however, he is practicing his pleasuring techniques – skills he never wants to become rusty otherwise it will mean he is not satisfying his mate.

            He lets her sighs and little moans guide him as he stokes her fires with his hands and tongue until she spreads her thighs and lets him drink deep. She loves his need when he wakes, the edge of hunger that fuels his passion and his busy mouth. The boy is right in that they do not have a great deal of time, but he refuses to be rushed as he finishes his meal and raises up to claim her, riding her with tempered urgency. Her nails dig into his back (a wonderful feeling) as she curls her body upward to make sure he strikes her sweet spot, and he rewards her by making sure his aim is true.

            She gasps and jerks with pleasure, her eyes wanting to drift closed but knowing that he would want her looking at him. He sees her lift her gaze upwards, to the mirrored ceiling, so she can watch him fucking her in the reflective glass, and he tightens the muscles of his butt, knowing she will see and be further turned on by the flexing of his glutes.

            “Oooohhhhh,” she sighs, lifting her thighs and balancing her feet on the back of his knees. This gives him deeper access to her inner depths and is a sign that she is building towards climax.

            Ten years and he still has not tired of her warmth, her scent, or the feel of her body sheathed around his cock. Some said he would get bored with her in months, but how could he ever tire of this bewitching creature who captivates him with her every word and gesture? This is love. This is union. Anyone who would get bored of Sookie Stackhouse obviously was never meant to be with her in the first place.

            He surges forward, knowing that they really ought to finish soon, and drives her closer to the edge. She grabs his arms, her small hands gripping his biceps, and urges him to come up against her pelvis. He is big enough, and hard enough, to use this position to rub her clitoris and strike her G-spot at the same time, and he has her shuddering in moments. He feels her tense and her abdominal muscles contract as she comes, her walls clamping down on him and holding him there as he thrusts deep. He lets loose the holds he has on his own orgasm, and climaxes inside her.

            He pants, not because he needs the oxygen, but because the act of breathing is comforting to her, and she appreciates it. She looks up at him, her face joyful and loving, and smiles a beautiful smile of complete contentment.

            “I love you,” she whispers breathily.

            He grins down at her, still half enthralled by her and their bond. “And I love you, my lover, my mate.”

 _‘Since you two are done now, does Sookie want this leftover gumbo or can I eat it?’_ Vincent sends.

            His wife blushes, but laughs, and they both chuckle as they get out of bed and begin to put themselves together.

            “That kid is a bottomless pit,” he says.

            “He’s no different from any other boy his age. They eat their weight in food everyday. Jason was the same way when we were growing up. Gran was convinced he had a hollow leg,” Sookie comments fondly, then sends to the boy, _‘Sure, go ahead.’_

_‘Thanks! You’ve got forty minutes left!’_

            His wife rolls her eyes, but throws on a long skirt, a pair of winter weight leggings and one of her Norwegian wool sweaters. They are already packed and their bags are by the back door. Pam will be arriving shortly to take them to the airfield.

            Vincent is just finishing up washing his plate when they enter the kitchen, and he’s already brewed a mug of decaf herbal tea for Sookie, since caffeine is a no-no. His poor wife is missing her coffee so much, but Vincent has promised to bring back a non-caffeinated coffee substitute that tastes just like the real thing.

            Sookie sits down at the kitchen table and Vincent places the mug of tea and a bowl of warmed soup down in front of her. His wife’s stomach has been a tad on the sensitive side lately.

            “Thanks,” she says, sipping the tea.

            “That blend will help with your evening sickness,” the boy states. “My mom was sick almost every day she carried me.”

            Vincent has the unique talent of remembering everything, even from his time in his mother’s womb. From the moment his brain was formed, he was conscious of his surroundings, and Eric remembers his wife telling him that Vincent saved Maria’s life on the day he was born. The Gypsy woman had apparently begun to hemorrhage while giving birth, and Vincent’s first act of fire had been to burn the bleed closed on his way out.

            “Thank you. I’ve been okay today. I was just a little queasy earlier,” Sookie admits when he gives her a raised eyebrow.

            Vincent nods and returns to drying the dishes.

            The boy is thin, but one cannot mistake his slender build for weakness. Under his black clothing, he is all muscle, and he is nearly as fast as a vampire. He still wears the elbow-length, black fingerless gloves, although he has taken them off to wash the plates. He no longer needs them to remind him that he must control his Gifts, but he likes them so they remain part of his every day wardrobe. His black hair is shoulder-length and curly, but he has one long, narrow braid that reaches almost down to the middle of his chest. He keeps it slung over his shoulder so the little jeweled tassel at the very end is visible against the front of his black T-shirt.

            There is a tingle of warning, and change in the ambient pressure of the surrounding air, right before a black-clad figure appears in the kitchen. It is Zolan, Vincent’s father, and he has come to collect his son. They knew he was coming, and he has a charm that allows him to Apparate through the protective shields around the house, but his sudden appearance is a little startling just the same.

            The very high-ranking Fire Demon is taller than his son, but they have the same basic build and coloring, although his black hair is short and straight. It seems that Vincent inherited his mother’s curls. His dark red eyes are mirrored in Vincent’s, and they have the same thin mouths. Vincent overcomes his stern, severe features by smiling a lot, but Zolan almost never smiles, and he almost never speaks. When he does speak, he uses few words, and they are carefully chosen.

            “Hey Dad,” Vincent greets with a wave. He is done with the tidying so he puts his gloves back on.

            “Zolan,” Eric says coolly.

            The Fire Demon gives him a deep nod. “Northman.”

            “You should know that your son performed his duties very well while he was here. He is an excellent swordsman, and a strong fighter. We will be happy to have him back once we have returned from our trip,” he tells the boy’s father, knowing Vincent thinks the world of his dad and wants to please him.

            The demon’s expression does not change, but his red eyes do soften with fatherly pride.

            “Yeah, Dad. Quinn the weretiger was showing me some wrestling moves, and Mr. Northman challenged me to a sword fight. He said I did really well.”

            “Hmm,” Zolan replies, and that is all anyone can expect from him.

            Vincent grabs the duffel bag that is sitting on the kitchen floor, and goes to stand next to his father. Zolan puts one hand on his son’s shoulder.

            “See you guys in two weeks. Don’t have too much fun on Isle Elena without me,” Vincent pipes cheerfully with a smile and a happy wave.

            “Bye Vincent. Be safe,” Sookie says, waving back.

            “Be safe,” he echoes, but does not wave. Master vampires do not wave.

            Zolan grunts a farewell, and the two blip out of sight.

            “I know that he can’t be all bad,” Sookie comments, taking another sip of her tea. “But that guy gives me the creeps. Talk about stoic. It’s hard to believe he ever loosened up enough to father Vincent.”

            He shrugs. In truth, he can’t either, but maybe Zolan is different when he is with Maria, and hints have been made that support that belief. It has been said that Maria’s Gift worked especially well on the Fire Demon.

            Sookie finishes her tea and soup and washes the dishes quickly because they know Pam will be there soon. She is no sooner finished putting the clean mug and bowl away when he hears Pam’s car in the driveway. His wife cannot hear it, but she knows from the look on his face that it is time to go, and she dries her hands and follows him to the back door where she puts on her parka.

            Pam has already put their bags in the trunk of her sedan, and she gives them a deep nod as they come out of the house.

            “Eric,” she greets.

            “Pam,” he replies.

            “Hey, Pam. Thanks for driving us to the airfield.”

            His child gives his wife a look. No thanks are required because it is her duty as his underling to serve him, but his mate acknowledges Pam’s service regardless. It is just her way, and it is part of what makes her so endearing to his minions.

            “You are welcome, Sookie,” Pam replies as she is expected. “How are you feeling tonight?”

            Sookie grins and puts a hand on her lower belly. “We’re all doing fine.”

            “I am glad.”

            His child has been a dedicated and attentive minder since he gave her the job of watching Sookie, and he is pleased with her performance. On the first night Sookie went to _Fangtasia_ for a brief visit to his office, it was Pam who brought down Clancy after the bar manager had caught a whiff of Sookie’s scent, and he’d been most impressed with the speed and ferocity of her attack. Had she not known Clancy personally, she would have killed him easily, and Eric rewarded her diligence with a new pair of retro Prada shoes. Pam is wearing them now, and Sookie oohhs and ahhhs over them appreciatively.

            They are running out of time so Sookie gets into the rear seat while he takes the shotgun position, and they are off. The conversation in the car is pleasant and covers particulars for the running of _Fangtasia_ and _Stackhouse’s_ in their absence, and any last minute details that need to be handled. Since the switchover to satellite-based phone service, there is cell phone reception on the island, so Pam can call him if need be if there are any unforeseen problems.

            The Isle Elena jet is waiting for them when they arrive at the airfield, and their usual pilot is standing by the open door. Sookie gives Perin a huge smile when she sees him, and the demon’s human illusion smiles back. The Hieraaetus demon is one of the last of his kind, a dogged survivor of a near extinct species of hawk-demons whose wingspans could reach in excess of sixteen feet. Sookie has seen the massive bird of prey in its true form, but she has no appreciation for how powerful and deadly Perin can be when he is angry. His kind have downed planes and decimated squadrons of fighter jets, and their operations in the Bermuda Triangle are legendary in the demon circles.

            He says goodbye to Pam and moves to greet Perin with his usual nod. The pilot nods back and sees to the luggage while he and his wife climb the steps into the cabin. After ten years of making this journey, they are old hands at it, so they get comfortable, and within minutes they are taxiing down the grass runway.

            He always gets nostalgic and sappy once they are in the air. This was the trip that started it all, the vacation he managed to convince Sookie to take with him that resulted in their re-bonding, and he cannot help but feel happy and proud and grateful. He shows his wife how much he appreciates her willingness to give him a chance by making love to her on the convertible loveseat bed. They are Platinum members of the Mile High Club by now, and he loves to ride her during turbulence just for the added vibration. Sometimes he thinks Perin flies through rough air on purpose because he knows what they are up to back in the cabin.

            The flight is uneventful and pleasurable, and they land on Isle Elena some three hours after takeoff. It is when they exit the plane that they arrive to a surprise. He had intended to grab Sookie and whisk her immediately to the lodge so that she will not catch a chill, but instead they are greeted by a waiting car – already running and warm.

            “Welcome, Mr. Northman, Mrs. Northman,” the driver says as they come down the steps of the plane. “My mistress sent me to fetch you so Mrs. Northman will not have to brave our cold winds in her delicate condition.”

            _‘News travels fast,’_ his wife comments.

            He nods. Some demons are just horrible gossips, and the news of his wife’s pregnancy is a hot topic on the vampire blogs in Shreveport. None know, however, that he is proud father, and the mysterious identity of the “sperm donor” is a popular source of speculation.

            “Thank you,” Sookie says as she hurries to get into the heated car.

            “Yes, send your mistress our thanks and tell her we will see her shortly to thank her in person,” he adds, getting into the back with her.

            The driver nods. “I will, Sir. I know she is waiting for you, but she bids me tell you there is no rush. Do you wish to go to the lodge or to your cabin?”

            “Take us to the cabin. My wife would like to freshen up before supper,” he replies, which is simply a nice way of saying that she wants to wash the sweat and fluids of their sex off of her body before she has to sit in a dining room full of demons with acute senses of smell.

            The guests and staff on Isle Elena always rejoice when they visit because their amorous activities (or as he likes to put it, their frequent fucking) results in pleasures for everyone. As such, their annual trip is always accompanied by a significant increase in the number of Isle guests all wanting to capitalize on their sexual energy. These days, the moment they make their reservations for Cabin 16, the rest of the resort is filled almost to capacity within a week.

            His wife does not relish her reputation as a catalyst for wild, unrestrained, resort-wide sex, but she bears it with good humor, and it makes Eros and his mother happy. Eros has even rewarded them with more magic mint leaves over the years, and he still has three left. Elena’s ring stopped working four years ago, but he hopes the Goddess will see fit to recharge it in light of his wife’s circumstances. There is no guarantee that the babies will be born after dark.

            Cabin 16 awaits them when they arrive. It is warm, and there is a fire already in the hearth. The swing and rocking chairs have been put on the porch, and the kitchen is stocked with a few of his wife’s favorite coffees (none of which she ought to have, so he’ll remove them later so she won’t be tempted). The décor has been updated and refurbished since 2006, but the feel and look of the place is virtually the same.

            He grins like an idiot as they get out of the car, and sweeps up his wife to carry her over the threshold. Each time they come here, it is like coming home, and he still feels the same giddy happiness that he felt ten years ago. He sets her down on her feet and goes to get the bags. By the time he is back, she is already upstairs in the loft and preparing to shower. He hurries to join her, and join with her, in the roomy, two-person shower stall. Homecoming indeed.

            Two hours later, they are clean and dry and dressed for the weather, and Sookie gets on his back without hesitation so he can carry her to the lodge. He flies her there as fast as he can because the wind is biting, and he knows she hates the cold, and they arrive in less than three minutes. Once inside, he gives her enough time to fix her hair and take off her coat before he escorts her to the dining room where Noria is waiting. Sookie greets her like an old friend, which in many ways she is, and she is delighted to see the familiar silver dreadlocks of her favorite waiter, Toth, as they are led to their table.

            For him, coming to Isle Elena is a chance to return and celebrate their beginning. For his wife, it is a chance to see friends she only sees once a year because neither Noria nor Toth ever leave the island for their own personal reasons. There is much chatting, and much promising to catch up, before they order their respective suppers. The kitchen manager always stocks his favorite flavors of Bloodvine, so there is ample quantity of AB- and O+ for him, plus one fey pod that he will mix drop-by-precious-drop into the less potent plant-based blood.

            Dinner is pleasant as always, and they complete their meal with a toast. Sookie is still avoiding alcohol so she asks for a ginger ale, and they toast to each other, their bond, and their hopes for the future. When they are finished, he offers her his hand, and they make their way down to the chapel to offer their prayers and thanks.

            The moment they enter the sacred space, all giddiness and frivolity ends, and he approaches the carved statue of Hlin with quiet reverence. As he kneels before the edifice, he hears and smells his wife light an incense from the stash of offerings kept near the chapel door, then she brings the incense and an offering bowl to him and kneels at his side. He nods his head in thanks and begins his prayer.

            He invokes the Goddess, speaking of Her in the old Sagas, praising Her name and Her deeds, and he sings a hymn, deep and guttural, that tells the tale of Hlin’s grief and fidelity. Then he begins the personal portion of the ritual, the part where he gives his own private prayers to the Goddess for Her favors.

            “Hlin, Goddess of Consolation. Goddess who watches over the warriors, I am your humble servant. Thank you for the gifts you have bestowed upon my wife and me. We are forever grateful for Your generosity and favor. We speak Your name with reverence and awe. We believe in Your grace and goodness.”

            He holds out his hand and Sookie places the small knife she had put in her pocket before they left the cabin into his palm. He takes it from her with a nod and uses it to slice his wrist. The blood wells out and drips into the offering bowl as he holds the wound over the metal basin.

            “I give you my blood as an offering. The blood of your servant these last thousand years. I spill it freely; not as that of an unwilling sacrifice, but as a devoted worshipper who as seen Your power. Please accept my gift, it is the greatest offering I can give to you to show you my gratitude and humility in Your Presence.”

            His Hammer flares, casting off its glamour, just as it did on the night he gave thanks to his patrons for prayers answered, and he pulls the glowing silver pendant from inside his shirt. He raises it to his lips and kisses the bullet embedded in the crosspiece.

            “Thank you, my Goddess.”

            The air in the room changes, and he knows Elena has come to the shrine, but he does not rise from his knees just yet. He hears his wife gasp, and she puts a hand on his shoulder.

_‘Eric…’_

            The tone of her mindvoice sets off warning lights, and he tenses his shoulders, ready to spring and pounce if it turns out to be a threat, but he wonders who would be stupid enough to attack them on Isle Elena. He shifts and turns his head to look behind them, towards the door, and sees what his wife sees. He cannot believe his eyes.

            Elena is there in all of Her glory, Her body glowing with the soft aura of the Divine, but it is not Her that draws his gaze or makes his eyes widen in amazement. It is the other woman standing beside Elena that captivates him.

            She is blond, her hair a thick cascade of gold that falls over her shoulders and down her back, and a circlet of gold holds it away from her face. Her eyes are grey-blue like storm clouds over the sea, and her face has the strong features of the northern women. She is tall and thin, but possessing an ample bosom that is shown off by her low cut, blue, shift dress that reaches nearly to the floor. The dress is sleeveless, but there is a fur cape across her shoulders, and a heavy gold belt is slung around her narrow waist. Her bare feet peek out from under the folds of blue fabric.

            _‘She looks like a Viking Queen,’_ Sookie tells him.

            _‘No. A Viking Goddess,’_ he corrects gently, hardly believing that She is there.

            He has seen Hlin once before, but his mate does not know that. The Goddess came to him one dark Jol night when he was out of his mind and about to kill his wife in a fae-blood frenzy. It was Hlin who stopped him, who brought him back to himself before he did the unthinkable, and then she appeared to him later, after he was certain that Sookie would be all right. His mate has long since forgiven him for his transgressions that night, but she has no idea how close she came to death. She owes her continued status as an oxygen breathing human to the Norse Goddess standing before them.

            He rises to his feet and approaches cautiously, never taking his eyes off the women. He flicks a glance to Elena, and She gives him a wry, secret smile. When he feels he is close enough, he bows deeply to the Greek Goddess, then kneels on one knee at Hlin’s feet.

            “My Lady, I am overcome,” he says, his eyes down in supplication.

            “Be at peace, my favored son,” he hears the Norse Goddess speak in the old language.

            “I have no words to express my surprise and joy to be in your presence,” he admits.

            “I am honored to have been invited to this sanctuary by my most gracious host,” Hlin answers.

            He looks up at Elena briefly before lowering his eyes again.

            “I am humbled and awed by Her generosity.”

            His wife comes to stand beside him, but she does not kneel. His Sookie kneels for no one, proud Queen of his own. She will bow when needed, when it is expected of her, but she does not do so without reservation. He feels her hand, warm on his shoulder, and he dares to rise to his feet so that they may face the two Goddesses together.

            “I am honored to meet you,” his mate says to Hlin. “Eric and I… we owe so much to you. Your Hammer has saved us many times, and protected my husband from harm.”

            Hlin smiles and reaches up to touch his Hammer with her delicate fingers. “It is one of my finest creations.” She moves forward and boldly places one hand on Sookie’s abdomen. “As these will be your finest creations.”

            Sookie gasps and steps back, covering her belly protectively. “Oh.”

            He steps in to intercede immediately. “We are grateful for your blessing. Thank you.”

            “You are one of my few believers. It is through you, and others like you, that I exist in this form at all. Your prayers and offerings give me strength.”

            “Oh! Um…” Sookie blurts. _‘What do I call her? Your Grace? Your Goddess-ness?’_

            He smiles to himself. _‘Call her My Lady.’_

            “My Lady, do you want the offering Eric just left? He offered some of his blood…”

            “Bring it to me,” the Norse Goddess replies.

            Sookie hurries to collect the offering bowl, and while she is doing that, he looks to Elena.

            “Thank you,” he whispers in his most heartfelt tone.

            The Greek Goddess nods to him, and the two women share a secret glance, then Sookie brings the metal basin and offers it to Hlin.

            “Here, my Lady.”

            The Goddess reaches up Her hands and takes the bowl gently, Her eyes hooded and thoughtful. “Blood sacrifices were never made to me. Those were reserved for my Lord and Lady, but blood spilled willingly is a powerful offering.”

            “It is my most valued possession, My Lady. Drink it of you wish. I would be honored,” he tells her with humility, but he is also wondering what it would be like to have his blood coursing in the veins of a Goddess.

            Hlin smiles, but Her expression is one of amusement. “I am honored, but I am beyond your ken, my faithful one. As powerful as your blood may be, you cannot even begin to rival that which flows through my veins, but I am pleased by your gift.”

            He sees Her look down at the slowly coagulating blood, and he can feel Her doing something, the energy pulsing through Her hands as She concentrates. She works Her magic for a few moments, then offers the bowl to his wife.

            “Drink. I have infused this offering with nurturing power. It will help your unborn children grow strong inside you.”

            “Oh,” Sookie replies and accepts the bowl. “Thank you, My Lady.”

            He knows Sookie does not care for the taste of vampire blood if it is not taken during shared pleasures, but he also knows that she isn’t stupid enough to reject a gift given to her by a Norse Goddess Herself. He can feel her steeling her resolve as she raises the bowl to her lips and takes a small sip. After her initial tentative taste, she lifts the bowl higher and drinks down the rest of his blood as quickly as she can.

            He waits until he hears her suck the last of it into her mouth before taking her wrist and pulling her hand away so he can kiss her full on the lips. She gives him a little gasp of surprise, then yields to his kiss.

 _‘I can taste my blood on you,’_ he sends, letting the lust coil in his lower belly.

            Her response is a small moan and a set of nails digging into his skin as she grabs his arm.

            “Ahem,” comes a slightly amused voice, and they abruptly remember that they are not alone.

            “Forgive me,” he apologizes, pulling away, but keeping his arm wrapped around Sookie’s shoulder. “I smelled my blood on my mate and got carried away.

            Hlin smiles, Her eyes laughing. “No apology is necessary. The love you have for each other is a blessing and a joy.”

            He nods his head and tightens his grip on his mate. “I owe much of our success to the magic of this sanctuary and the generosity of our host.”

            “No. Perhaps it would have taken you longer to come to your understanding, but you would have found each other in the end,” Elena corrects. “A bonding as strong as the one you have with your wife is rare and wondrous. Nothing could have kept you apart. All the same, I am glad that my island played some small part in your coming together and your continued happiness.”

            “You gave us the safe place we needed in order for us to work out our differences and see through to our future together,” he says humbly. “For that we are eternally grateful.”

            His wife snorts. “He just brought me here because he knew I couldn’t swim that far,” she complains with mock-irritation.

            “Well, yes, location was a major factor. You did have an irritating habit of running away from me,” he points out reasonably.

            “So you brought me here to Frozen North so I’d be too cold to move,” she counters.

            He looks to Hlin and they share a smile.

            “She has no idea the true depths of cold, does she?” the Goddess comments.

            He shakes his head. “None, My Lady, and I hope that she never learns,” he replies, smoldering down at his mate as if he could keep her warm with his eyes alone.

            She shivers under his gaze but not with chill. His blood is merging with hers in her veins, and he can feel its effects surging into their Bond. The scent of her excitement is curling up into his sinuses, and the lust he feels goes straight to his groin.

            Hlin nods and turns Her head to Elena. “Shall we go, my hostess? I think these two wish to return to their cabin for privacy.”

            “Indeed, my honored guest, we shall,” the Greek Goddess answers, then looks to him. “We will see you again soon.”

            She offers Her hand to Hlin, who slides Her paler fingers into Elena’s darker-skinned ones, and then the two are gone. Sookie shakes her head and smiles at him, snickering.

            “What?” he asks.

            “I just think it’s funny. They’re Goddesses, but they scheme just the same as the rest of us. I was listening to them. They want us to go off and have sex.”

            He pulls her close, pressing her body against his, letting her feel his physical arousal as he lets his emotional arousal flood into their bond. “I think that’s a good idea, don’t you?”

            “You always think sex is a good idea,” she says, sliding one hand up to lay flat on his chest.

            “Yes, but at least you’ll never be able to say that’s the reason for your current condition.”

            Her face softens and she looks at him with pure love. “No,” she murmurs, standing on her tiptoes to reach up for a kiss. “That is the result of my wonderfully devious and devoted husband bending the very rules of nature to give me the family he knew I wanted.”

            He grins, letting all his love for her flow into the bond as he presses his lips to hers. _‘Anything for you, my lover. Shall I bend a few more rules to prove how much I love you?’_

_‘I’d rather you bend me.’_

            He chuckles into her mouth and pulls her even closer. _‘That can be arranged,’_ he agrees with enthusiasm and lifts her into his arms so he can carry her from the chapel, out of the lodge and fly her to their waiting cabin.


	9. Chapter 9

A/N: This is a transitional chapter that is mostly sex and fluff. :D

 

Chapter Nine

 

            Joining with his wife is always a pleasure, but joining with her on Isle Elena is always just a little more special. It isn’t that they are doing anything different from what they normally do when they have sex; rather it is the healing magic of the island that makes each touch more profound, each tender endearment more heartfelt. They are truly one here, completely at ease and safe, and he can let down all of his guards. Isle Elena is the one place where he can let go of all of his pretenses, take off all of his masks, and be the man he wants to be.

            He delights in her as much as she delights in him, and if her cries of pleasure and his shouts of fulfillment bring others satisfaction, then more power to them. When they are engaged in a tangle of limbs and ecstasy, they have little care for anything but each other. His wife writhes beneath him, opening herself up to his fangs and cock in a way that fuels his most base needs and desires, and he takes her offerings with relish. Her moans fill his ears, her pungent, sweet scent fills his nose, her warmth is a burning heat that makes him feel alive again, and he cannot get enough of her wrapped around him.

            _‘Sookie. Sookie. Sookie,’_ he chants with each roll of his hips, pressing his pelvis to her pubic bone to rub her sweet spot.

            She gasps and tosses her head, the sweat on her brow making her hair cling to her skin in little wisps. Her sounds are incoherent grunts and sighs, and her thoughts aren’t much clearer. He cups one breast, lifting it and rolling the nipple with his thumb until it is pert and erect, then he covers the little nub with his mouth and sucks, making her keen and arch her back. By now he knows her body so well that he can make her come in under three minutes or he can keep her on the edge of release almost indefinitely. It’s all a matter of how cruel he feels like being on any given night; then again Sookie has put the multi in multi-orgasmic, so he has no worries of wearing her out before he’s sated.

            Because they are on Isle Elena, and so many others are depending upon them putting out a good release of energy, he lets her teeter on the cusp of climax for a good while before he lets her fall, allowing her to clench around him and sob and dig her hands into his back, but then he uses his talents to trigger two more orgasms from her in quick succession, making her scream. He holds back, nowhere near ready or done fucking her, and lets her catch her breath while he waits, still inside her, until her heart rate slows down before beginning again.

            “Oh God,” she moans, letting her head roll to the side. Her skin is flushed, and the sight of so much blood that close to the surface just makes him hornier.

            “Which one?” he teases, giving her a good thrust so she doesn’t forget he’s there (like she would or could when he is nine plus inches of pure satisfaction).

            “Unguh,” she blurts then grabs the sheets in her hands as she lifts her hips into him. “Thor. Odin. Zeus. Whichever was the god of fucking a woman’s brains out.”

            “Thor had a mighty hammer,” he replies wickedly.

            “Unhuh. So do you,” she gasps as he uses his “hammer” to nail her to the mattress.

            “So glad you think so, my lover,” he purrs before he covers her mouth with his and mimics his thrusts with his tongue. He has her building again in moments, and he’s building too.

            She moans around his mouth, her abdominal muscles tightening and holding her in place as she braces herself against the onslaught of his fast pace. He tips her pelvis up just a little to get her in just the right spot to give her maximum pleasure, and he is rewarded by her rising cries. He has to release her mouth so she can breathe as she begins to lose it, and she takes in huge gasps of air as she convulses under him. Her orgasm triggers his, and he lets himself go, coming deep inside her.

            “Eric… Eric…” she gasps, clutching him, and he is the one seeing stars.

            It was a powerful climax even for him and he’s still reeling. Had he been human he might have passed out. As it is, he isn’t quite sure if he can make his eyes focus properly.

            _‘Woman, you are incredible,’_ he tells her.

            She chuckles and strokes his hair. _‘You’re not so bad yourself.’_

            “Mmmmmm,” he murmurs, disengaging and snuggling up beside her, but he takes a moment to lower his head and kiss her belly. “Hello in there. I hope I didn’t shake up your world too much just now.”

            His wife puts her hand over her womb and laughs softly. “Oh, I think they’re going to have to get used to it.”

            He laughs and holds her close. “I like the sound of that.”

            “Somehow I knew you would,” she answers, threading her fingers into his. “So… do you think the guests know we’re back?”

            “I’m sure they do after that, but if you want, you can lower your shields and see if you can hear the cheering.”

            She chokes and releases his hand long enough to smack his hip. “You!”

            “You missed my ass,” he comments.

            “Don’t tempt me. I’ll take you out behind the woodshed and paddle you good.”

            Not that she has any hope of making good on her threat, but the thought amuses him. “I’ll never be _good_ , lover, but there’s a chance I could be less evil,” he jokes.

            “Never. You’re evil through and through.”

            “It’s a good thing that I have you to keep me from going on a diabolical killing rampage then,” he purrs, nibbling her earlobe.

            “Humph,” she huffs, then softens. “I love you.”

            “I love you too.”

            “I’m glad to be back here,” she says with a soft sigh, her body relaxing completely.

            “Me too.”

            “Think we’ll get snowed in again?”

            “It’s possible. The weather is notoriously unpredictable this time of year.” They’ve been snowed in four of the ten times they have been here. This is their eleventh trip to the island, and they are overdue for a surprise November Gale, so he won’t be shocked if they get hit with a storm. Knowing some of the weather working demons, they might call a blizzard just to keep them on the island.

            “Mmm,” she mumbles, and he can feel her slipping on the edge of sleep.

            He does nothing to dissuade her from getting her rest. There is plenty of night left for more sex and even **_he_** can use a break after that fucking session. He nuzzles her and hums softly, knowing it will help her sleep, and soon she is snoring quietly next to him. He pulls up the blankets and cuddles close, shutting his eyes and letting himself drift off into downtime.

           

            They make love once more before dawn, and she comes to bed with him in the windowless room and stays beside him until the daytime sleep takes him under. He loves the feeling of going to sleep in her arms second only to waking in them. He has no awareness or memory of the day when the stupor begins to release its hold on him so that means it has passed uneventfully. Had there been trouble with his wife during the daylight hours, he would have felt her distress, but he felt nothing, and she is curled beside him all tender and warm. Her contentment is transmitting over the bond, and she smells of the lake and the Northern wind.

            He turns to sink his face into her hair and breathes deep. He loves the smell of the North on her skin and his fangs run down. She gives a little happy mumble when he nuzzles her with his nose and rolls to her back. He follows, rolling with her, and rising up to loom over her, his long hair falling over his shoulders and brushing against her skin. Her eyes open, and she smiles up at him.

            “Evening,” she says lovingly.

            “Evening. How was your day?”

            “Wonderful. I did absolutely nothing but cuddle by the fire and read. I even called for cabin service to bring me a food basket. Toth brought it over himself.”

            That was good to know otherwise he would have been wondering why the waiter’s scent was in the cabin.

            “I’m so happy that you had a nice day, my love,” he tells her, giving her a kiss.

            She isn’t naked as he would have liked, but she is in a button down flannel nightgown, and he unbuttons it as he makes his way down her body, kissing and licking her nipples as he passes, until he kisses the spot just under her navel.

            “Good evening, little ones. It’s Faðir. I hope you had a nice day all safe and warm in Móðir’s belly,” he says sweetly, using the words for “father” and “mother” in his native tongue. “Did she feed you well? Are you growing big and strong in there?”

            He hears his wife laugh softly and she strokes his hair.

            _‘Who would ever have guessed that you were paternal?’_ she teases fondly.

_‘Don’t you dare tell anyone.’_

_‘My lips are sealed.’_

            He gives her a smile before turning his ear to lie flat above her womb. She holds her breath, and he closes his eyes and listens. He mentally filters out all of the ambient noise: his wife’s own heart beat, her gut sounds, the sounds in the room, and concentrates on hearing deep inside her. Up until now her womb has been silent, but tonight, miracle of miracles, he thinks he hears a whoosh-whoosh-whoosh noise.

            _‘Eric?’_ she asks, feeling his sudden tension.

_‘Sookie… I… I think… I think I can hear them.’_

            She is quiet for a long moment, then she sends, _‘You do?’_

            He focuses his hearing and listens hard. Sure enough there are new sounds coming from within his mate. He gets very still and concentrates all of his energy on trying to determine if he is hearing one or two.

            Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh-whoosh, he hears, then he disseminates another just a hair higher in pitch.

            _‘Yes. Yes, I do. I can hear two heartbeats, very small, very fast.’_

 _‘We need to time them! Remember Dr. Marconi said fetal heartbeat should be 85bpm at first,’_ she insists excitedly.

_‘You keep time and I’ll count. Tell me when a minute is up.’_

            He waits for her to give him the signal, then begins counting at her go ahead. She calls the minute when he gets to 82.

            _‘82. Now time another, I need to count the second one.’_

_‘Okay.’_

            He counts 80 for the second one.

            _‘They’re low,’_ his wife worries.

            _‘They’ve only been beating for a day. Give them some time to get up to speed before you start to fret,’_ he cautions.

_‘But I read that the fetal heartbeat is a good indicator of fetal health, and if they’re low…’_

            He stops her. _‘Do you honestly think that **anything** is going to happen to our babies when they have the blessing of two goddesses? Especially while we are here?’_

            That gets her and she calms down, but he can understand her concern. She knows that many IVF pregnancies end in miscarriage, and they have eight more months to go through in a nine-month pregnancy. There is plenty of reason to fret, but they have passed another hurdle and reached another milestone. Both little ones now have heartbeats. It is not a time to worry about everything that could go wrong. It is time to rejoice in what is going right.

            _‘My lover, our babies have heartbeats,’_ he tells her, smiling.

            She gulps and puts her hands over her womb. _‘What do they sound like?’_

            _‘Like running horses,’_ he replies, moving her hands so he can keep listening. It’s a wondrous, miraculous sound. _‘A thundering horde.’_

            He cannot begin to describe what hearing the tiny patters does to him. Prior to this moment, his children existed only in the abstract – a possibility that was on the verge of coming to fruition. Now that the babies growing in his wife’s womb have heartbeats, they have moved from possibility to reality, and all of it is **_real_** now. His children are _alive_ , and they are wonderful.

 _‘It’ll be a while before I can hear them,’_ she says sadly.

_‘Oh, but you will. You will hear them, and you’ll feel them. They’ll kick and squirm inside you like little warriors.’_

_‘That’s provided they take after their father.’_

_‘Of course.’_

_‘So sure you’ll throw yourself well, hmm? What if they take after me?’_

_‘Then they will be hardworking, and brave, and loyal, and courageous…’_

            She squeezes his shoulder and spreads her legs, enticing him with her scent. He moans because he hasn’t fed yet since he’s just awakened and lets his cheek slide lower into the softness of her curls.

            _‘And still creative,’_ he sighs, sinking his teeth into her artery with care.

            He makes sure she has her pleasure after he has eaten, making love to her with joy and delight. The bed in the small room is close to the wall so he uses it for leverage and braces his feet against it as he lets her be on top. He has never known a time when joining with her has not been pleasurable for him, so he has no real preference of position as long as she is satisfied. They’ve gotten inventive and adventurous over the years, and tried some odd positions, but the tried and true staples have always worked out the best.

            Afterwards, they shower and get dressed, and he carries her to the lodge for dinner and a piano concert. Maria and Izzy are not here this year as they have been in some years past. Sometimes their vacation schedules coincide with each other and sometimes they do not. There is plenty of other entertainment, however, and his wife delights in beating him at billiards – although she still can’t best him at darts. Hlin is present at the concert, seated next to Elena and Her husband, Elias. Elias is not His real name and He is a deity of some sort, but he does not know the story between Him and Elena, nor has he had any cause to ask.

            He almost doesn’t recognize his patron Goddess because She is not dressed in Her gown and cape, and Her hair is braided and curled around Her head. She is wearing a very casual blue sweater and a long, dark brown suede skirt with matching brown suede boots. In fact, the only reason he looked twice at the woman sitting next to Elena in the audience was because he recognized Her companion. Blond like his Goddess, the man has long hair with the front sections weaved into braids while the rest was left loose to fall down his back. He has a long beard of the same color that is neatly trimmed along his jaw and braided in a single braid that reaches close to his chest. He is dressed in a dark red cable sweater and a pair of crisp blue jeans, but even in modern clothes Eric knows who he is.

            _‘Baldr…’_ he thinks to himself, surmising that even Gods who are supposed to be dead never truly die.

            As if They can read his mind, both members of the Aesir look his way. Hlin smiles at him and nods, and Baldr does the same. He bows his head in respect and humility, and the two turn Their heads away to refocus on the musician. He wonders what They think of the music. Back when he was alive, such a thing as a piano was unheard of. His people could not have even conceived of such a thing. Their instruments were crude, simple things: horns and drums, bells and lyres. The men chanted and the women sang. There was nothing of the sublime complexity of the later composers, of Mozart, Bach and Brahms. If one of his clansmen were alive today, no doubt he would be stunned and awed by the music being played for them tonight.

            He has always appreciated music in nearly all of its forms; he could not stand to be in _Fangtasia_ or _Stackhouse’s_ if he did not, so the advances in modern music are welcome changes. The first time he heard rock music in stereo he nearly swooned, and there was a time when his music collection took up an entire room in an apartment (until a rival burned the whole building down.) He loves the digital age because he can store thousands of albums on one iPod no bigger than the palm of his hand.

            When the concert is over, he and his wife go out to enjoy the night air. After ten years of coming here, Sookie is aware of the cold, and she has somewhat acclimated. She has new boots and a very warm coat, and a hat, scarf, and gloves. It is not horrendously cold tonight, but it is freezing so they do not stay out too long, and they return to their cabin before midnight. He lights a fire in the hearth and settles with her beside it, an arm around her shoulder and a hand on her lower belly. The little hearts inside her are getting stronger, and he can hear them more clearly now. They’re up to 84 beats per minute now, and just galloping away. The sound is a joyful noise.

            Making love by firelight is one of his favorite pastimes, and he knows she enjoys seeing the light flickering on his naked skin. They join, hands entwined, and he is ever mindful of the two additional pulses that rise in pace and pitch as he and Sookie reach their peaks. When they have reached completion, he holds her and listens until the tiny hearts settle back down. He has heard of developing babies reacting to their mothers’ emotional state, but he never thought he would hear it so clearly at such an early stage. He strokes the area above them, tickling his wife’s soft belly, and allows himself to truly feel like a father for the first time.

            His wife falls asleep curled next to him, her warmth heating his one side while the dying fire warms the other. It makes him as close to drowsy as his kind can get, and he lets himself drift on a wave of contentment and peace until he feels Sookie shiver in her sleep. Picking her up carefully, he carries her upstairs and settles her into the big bed, snuggling under the blankets with her because he likes to be warm too. She rolls towards him even in sleep, and he tucks her head under his chin, holding her close. He tunes back into her heartbeat, and the tiny hearts thrumming inside her, and lets himself slip into downtime.

 

88888888

 

            Two nights later he is outside alone. The wind is whipping through the trees and he can smell the storm coming in. His wife is safely tucked inside their cabin because she would never come out in this weather, but he feels almost unbearably excited, as if electricity is running under his skin. He is too restless to stay indoors, so he is out in the night, his face to the wind, the prick of the forming ice crystals stinging his skin. It is an exhilarating feeling, and he breathes in the cold air and all its wonderful scents.

            A few minutes later, he feels a tingle at the back of his neck that has nothing to do with temperature, and he takes to the air, flying slowly towards the source of his concern. He relaxes immediately when he comes upon Hlin who is also standing out in the wind. Her hair is unbound and flying around her face, but She takes no notice of it. She is dressed in the blue shift, barefoot, and She has a huge wolf skin wrapped around Her shoulders. She is the very image of a Norse Goddess: beautiful, fierce, and at home in the cold.

            She knows he is there because She turns Her head towards him slightly as he approaches, but She does not speak. He stands next to Her, both of them looking out across the water and the coming gale. He has seen Her only at a distance since their meeting in the chapel, and this is the first time he has had an opportunity to speak to Her alone. He breathes in again and tastes the magic in the wind.

            “This is no ordinary storm,” he says conversationally.

            “No,” the Goddess agrees.

            He tenses, getting protective. His pregnant mate is alone in their cabin, and he wonders if he needs to be concerned.

            “Is there danger?” he asks carefully.

            Hlin shakes Her head. “No. The Valkyries are coming to take me home.”

            “You are leaving then?”

            “I must. I cannot be away from my own sanctuary for too long. Like my gracious hostess, I am tied to my lands, and I weaken if I am away from them.”

            It is a profound statement and an enlightening one. He has always suspected that Elena does not leave Her island because Her lifeforce is linked to it.

            “Not linked,” the Goddess corrects. “That would be foolish. Just strengthened. We store excess energy in the plants and rocks until, over time, the land itself can sustain us. Gods who laid waste to their lands had no reserves to fall back on when their worshippers no longer believed in them. Those of us who nurtured gardens have survived.”

            “How many?” he questions gently.

            “All of us. In some form or another. Oh, there are a few who have disappeared completely, but none of us. We always knew our future lay within the earth. Those that did not embrace that reality…” She shrugs. “Perhaps they are better off no longer walking among us. The great wars of old have ceased. Now we are busy doing our best just to keep ourselves alive.”

            He nods, understanding. The days of war have mostly ended for the vampires too, and he cannot help but think that is a good thing. One benefit to the humans taking over the world has been that the epic battles between the Supernaturals have waned in the light of a common enemy. For that he is grateful. The last vampire-fairy war was a bloody conflict that lasted decades, and even he was glad when the fighting ceased.

            “I am honored that you came here, My Lady, so that I might see you again.”

            “I am glad to see you under much more pleasant circumstances.”

            She is referring to the only other time he has seen Her, the horrible Jol night where he almost killed his lover. It was by Hlin’s hand that he did not, and he bows to Her again as he did on that night.

            “I say again that I have no words to express my gratitude for your willingness to intervene that night.”

            “Killing her would have destroyed you,” the Goddess replies simply. “And I am at my strongest on Jol – we all are, so many of the new ones remember Us then.”

            “I have always remembered you.”

            “I know. You are my most faithful servant.”

            He bows again. He does not mind bowing to those he feels truly deserve his respect and admiration.

            The wind blows, stronger this time, and he can smell the magic even more powerfully. The Valkyries are getting closer.

            “I have heard the babies’ heartbeats,” he tells Her. “They grow stronger every day.”

            “I am glad.”

            “Thank you for answering my prayer.”

            “You did not ask for yourself, but for your wife, and your request was a simple thing. We are both healers, Elena and I.”

            “Some would say you worked a miracle.”

            “The days of grand miracles are long gone,” She replies, and he can hear Her regret.

            “Elena once told me that you were small gods so you worked small miracles.”

            “She speaks true.”

            “She also said that you guard your faithful jealously.”

            She smiles. “That is also true.”

            He can hear thunder in the clouds now. It sounds like hooves.

            “If you ever have need of me…” he begins, but he stops when She turns to him and gives him a brilliant smile.

            “I know, and I thank you.”

            Baldr materializes from out of the mists, and he bows to the God, lowering his eyes in respect. He knows of Baldr from the Sagas; he was Frigg’s most beloved son. Upon his death, the whole world wept – or at least everything except the Giantess, Thökk. That one recalcitrant giantess who refused to cry forced Baldr to stay in the Underworld after Loki had killed Him.

            Of course, he has no idea how much of the Sagas are true and how much is fanciful storytelling.

            “My Lord,” he says with deepest respect.

            “Vampire,” Baldr replies in a voice that is both beautiful and distant.

            He senses that the Valkyries are very close, but he does not want to assume that he has the right to witness their arrival. In the Sagas the Valkyries were for the fallen soldiers and the Gods. He bows again and takes a step back.

            “My Lord and Lady, I will take my leave. It was an honor and a privilege to see you here. I wish you safe journeys back to your home.”

            “Thank you, my faithful one,” Hlin answers gently. “It was our pleasure to come here and spend a short while with our gracious hostess.”

            He senses movement to his left and flicks his eyes over to see Elena and Elias emerging from the trees. No doubt they are here to bid farewell to their guests. He takes the opportunity to slip back into the forest, observing from a distance as he waits for the Valkyries to arrive. The four deities standing on the lakeshore are radiant in the darkness, but if they are speaking he cannot hear them. The wind is a wild gale tearing at the trees, but the four glowing figures do not seem to feel or fear the storm. He looks up into the gathering clouds, watching the flashes of lightning streaking through the rolling darkness, and waits, afraid to move lest he be discovered. He does not know if they know he still near, and he does not wish to push his luck, but he wants to see a Valkryie just once. When he died the first time, no one but his Queen came for him in the void of death.

            His eyes open wide as the clouds part as they reach the skies above the island, and a host of flying creatures come spiraling down from the cover of the storm. He was raised on the stories of the warrior maidens and their winged steeds, but nothing can prepare him for what he is witnessing now. The steeds are winged all right, but they aren’t horses, they’re _dragons_.

            They glide almost silently, using their huge, leathery wings to ride the winds, bringing their riders down to the lakeshore. They are small dragons, not much bigger than an elephant, and their hides are almost glowingly white. Their riders are nearly as stunning – magnificent Viking shield maidens in armor and helmets. There are seven dragons and five Valkyries, and two dismount to greet their sovereigns, bowing deeply. The dragons bow too. The two riderless dragons step forward, extending legs and lowering wings so that Hlin and Her consort can climb aboard.

            When their riders are settled, he sees the dragons dip down to gather themselves, then they throw themselves upwards, beating their wings fast to give them lift. The Valkyries on their dragons join them a moment later, taking up formation around the two Aesir, as they rise up and head for the clouds.

 _‘Farewell, my faithful one,’_ he hears Hlin say as the dragons are swallowed up by the storm.

            _‘Farewell, My Lady,’_ he sends back, smiling.

            He waits until he can no longer see any sign of them before heading back to the cabin. On his way there, it begins to snow, and he turns his face to the falling white, licking the flakes off his lips and tasting the cold. By the time he arrives at their lodging, his hair is dusted with it and he is giddily happy. He throws open the cabin door, letting the wind blow a gust of snow into the entryway, and surprises his wife who was not expecting him to come in like John Wayne in an old Western. All he needs is the swinging saloon doors and the cowboy hat.

            “Oh hail, the conquering hero returned from the war?” she comments, shying away from the blast of cold air that came in with the snow.

            “Hail, fair lady. Long have I been away in battle and not seen a maid of your beauty in many a long night,” he answers, playing along.

            “Well, good soldier, you will not see **_this_** maid for very long if you don’t warm yourself up, because if you try to touch me with your cold hands, I will make you wish you were still back at war.”

            He grins, his fangs running down, and appears before her faster than she can see. Laughing, he grabs her and kisses her hard, ignoring her protests.

            _‘Eric!’_ she scolds.

_‘You should have known better, my love. You know how much I love a good fight.’_

            Her mental groan only makes him laugh more, and he sees about warming both of them up the old fashioned way.

            “I saw a Valkryie tonight,” he tells her afterwards when they are in bed, and she has forgiven him for his cold hands.

            “Oh?” she asks with interest.

            “Yes. Five of them came to take Hlin and Baldr back to… to wherever it is that they live.”

            “Hlin’s gone?” she says, disappointed. “Rats. I would have liked to have said good-bye.”

            “I wished her well for both of us. You would have been very cold out there, my love. The Valkyries came on the storm. They were riding dragons.”

            “Dragons? You mean, _dragon_ dragons?”

            He nods. “White ones. They were beautiful.”

            She smiles fondly at him. “That must have been a sight to see.”

            “It was.”

            “Mmm. I’m glad you got to see it then,” she tells him, putting one arm across his chest and snuggling close.

            He brushes her hair with his fingertips fondly and hums under his breath. _‘Me too.’_

_‘Can you check on the kids?’_

            He smiles to himself at her request. She has taken to calling his counting of the heartbeats “checking on the kids,” and she is almost obsessively concerned with their babies’ heart rates, but he is patient and obliges her because it is no hardship to listen to his children’s hearts.

            _‘Of course,’_ he agrees, sliding down her body to put his ear to her belly.

            “Hello, little ones. It’s Faðir,” he says to the growing lives in her womb. “How are you doing in there? Calming down from the excitement? Yes, I know Faðir gets Móðir excited a lot, doesn’t he? But Móðir really likes it, and I know you’re happy when Móðir is happy, even if it means you get bounced around a bit.”

            Móðir slaps him on the shoulder because she can’t reach his ass, and he chuckles.

            “Móðir is gonna pop you,” she threatens.

            “Again? I’ve already burst twice,” he answers, lifting his head to look up and waggle his eyebrows at her. She laughs and tugs at his hair, and he goes back to addressing his children. “Don’t you worry about Móðir. Faðir will keep her happy.”

            He settles in to listen to the hearts and closes his eyes to concentrate. They’ve done this enough that she knows his signal for when to begin counting, and he knows hers for when to stop.

            _‘First one is up to 90,’_ he tells her, and she times another minute for him. _‘Second is 86.’_

 _‘One is weaker than the other,’_ she frets.

            He hurries to calm her. _‘It is not unusual for one twin to be more robust than the other, but both are getting stronger. There is no need to worry. I promise.’_

            She sighs, but he can still feel her stress.

_‘Do I have to fuck you senseless so you’ll stop worrying?’_

            She chuckles and pinches him. _‘Don’t use that kind of language around our children.’_

 _‘They can’t hear me,’_ he insists.

_‘How do you know?’_

_‘Because they won’t have brains for another five weeks at least.’_

_‘Oh.’_

_‘You should know that,’_ he chides _. ‘I read that in a pregnancy book **you** bought.’_

 _‘Yeah, I do remember reading something like that, and about how one twin is usually stronger than the other,’_ she admits.

_‘Then you know that everything is fine.’_

            He feels all of her tension drain out of her as she relaxes. _‘Yeah. And their heartbeats are well within the normal range.’_

_‘Exactly.’_

_‘Yeah. Thank you, Eric.’_

_‘Anything for you, lover. And my offer to fuck you senseless still stands.’_

            She laughs, but caresses his head, which is still nestled against her lower abdomen and well within reaching distance of her pleasure center.

_‘You would too.’_

_‘Of course. Can’t have you too stressed. That’s bad for the babies,’_ he points out reasonably.

            Her hand pushes his head lower.

            _‘Can’t have that, can we?’_ she says, parting her thighs.

            He takes the hint and moves his mouth to lick her folds. No one ever said he couldn’t take direction.

            _‘No, we can’t.’_


	10. Chapter 10

Chapter Ten

 

            They almost miss their appointment at the clinic on the 16th because one of Lake Superior’s famous November Gales snows them in for an extra two days, but they are finally able to leave Isle Elena on the day of the appointment. He thought he would have to travel in the cargo hold of the private jet when it took off mid-afternoon, but a box is delivered to their cabin an hour before dawn. It contains four more enchanted mint leaves courtesy of Eros, which are no surprise, and also a new Trojan Horse ring. Sookie gasps when she sees it, and the accompanying note: “Babies are not always born after dark.”

            “Oh, Eric…” she breathes, watching as he slips the new ring on his right hand.

            He has no words either because he is choked up himself. It is true that he secretly hoped for this, but after everything he and his wife have been given by the Gods, he had no courage to ask for something else. Elena, it would seem, already knew what he would need, and gave it to him without his asking.

            After he puts on the ring, he hugs his wife and kisses her hair, and they make one final offering of energy to their hostess, making sure to show their gratitude for the gifts they have been given. When dawn comes, he slips a magic leaf under his tongue to keep him conscious, and they enjoy their final few hours on the island until they must bid farewell to Cabin 16 for another year.

            The staff comes to see them off as usual, but the Goddess is not in the crowd, most likely because She has put so much energy into the ring that She must now rest.

            “You will have to bring the babies next year,” Noria entreats. “We must see your little Vikings.”

            Sookie blushes and smiles. “We will. We promise.”

            During their joyful time at the sanctuary, the resort staff went so far as to surprise Sookie with an impromptu baby shower. But of course what demons think is an appropriate gift for an expectant mother is different from what humans think. There was not a cradle or rattle in the pile of presents, but there were numerous protective charms, potions for calming screaming infants, potions for an expectant mother to make birth easier, spells to confer certain Gifts and attributes to the children, four offers of Abyssian Hounds to protect the infants (No, thanks. They’re rabidly carnivorous and salivate poison), and two blankets made from Magma Rat hides (practically impervious to fire).

            His wife was gracious as always, and most of the gifts will prove very useful. As such, they are leaving with much more luggage than when they arrived, but there is nothing to be done for it, and Perin does not seem to mind the extra work. He has even included his own gift: two perfect primary wing feathers from his own wings. When worn, the feathers will mark the bearer as a Friend of the Raptors, and birds of prey of all shape, size and lineage will offer protection and aid.

            Add that to the automatic protection offered to his children through Sookie’s Friend of the Pack status with the Shreveport Weres, and he is confident that his family will be one of the best guarded in the history of the Supernatural community. They’re going to need that protection because he has no doubt that rival states and human religious zealots are going to be teeming from the walls just as soon as the news that he is the father goes public.

            Their plane lands a scant hour after sunset, and they rush directly to the fertility clinic where Dr. Marconi is waiting for them. Luckily, Pam has followed his instructions and left his car at the airfield so it is there when they arrive. The ultrasound is only to allow the doctor to check the gestational sacs around the babies to make sure everything is progressing as normal. Amniocentesis will be performed at 14 weeks to determine the sex of the fetuses, so they have decided to hold off decorating the nursery for a few more weeks.

            The doctor lubes up his wife’s belly and begins the procedure while he holds Sookie’s hand and smiles at her. The grainy images on the screen still make very little sense to him, but the doctor seems to like what she sees.

            “The gestational sacs on both fetuses look good. Both appear to have implanted well into the uterine wall, and they seem to be anchored far enough apart so as not to be a danger to each other,” the doctor says with reassurance.

            “That’s good. That’s great news,” Sookie answers.

            “Fetal heartrate is 90 and 96. Would you like to hear the babies’ heartbeats?” the doctor asks.

            “Is that possible?” Sookie replies.

            Dr. Marconi nods and turns up the speaker on the ultrasound. Soon the same whoosh-whoosh-whoosh noise he’s begun to associate with his children’s hearts can be heard thrumming out of the box.

            “Oh,” Sookie gasps. “Oh.”

            “I told you they sound like galloping horses,” he comments fondly.

            His wife’s eyes fill with tears, but she is smiling. “That’s our babies, Eric.”

            “It certainly is.”

            “What about one heartbeat being slower than the other? Should we be worried?” Sookie questions.

            Dr. Marconi shakes her head. “It’s very common in twins for one to be further ahead than the other in development. Both heart rates are well within the normal range and both are good and strong. I don’t see any reason for alarm.”

            _‘I told you so,’_ he sends smugly.

            _‘Oh you hush.’_

            He just grins at her and waggles his eyebrows.

            “Okay, I think I’ve seen everything I need to see. You can get up and go to the bathroom, and I’ll meet you out in the reception area,” the doctor tells them.

            Sookie is moving almost before Dr. Marconi is finished speaking.

            “Oh good, because I really have to pee,” she admits, allowing him to steady her as she slides off the examination table.

            The doctor laughs and gives them a little wave as Sookie hurries to the lavatory. Once his wife is finished her business, they meet with the doctor to make an appointment for the next visit.

            “I’d like to see you again in four weeks to check your progress,” Dr. Marconi says.

            “Four weeks would be December 14th,” he answers.

            The doctor looks in the appointment book. “I can see her at 7:30 pm on the 14th.”

            “We’ll be here,” Sookie says with a smile.

            “In the meantime, keep taking your progesterone and take good care of yourself. Eat healthy, stay active, reduce your stress. Avoid cigarette smoke and alcohol. If you experience any pain or bleeding, call me immediately. I will probably send you to the emergency room. Of course, if you have any questions or concerns, just call the office and ask for me.”

            “We will. Thank you, doctor,” Sookie replies.

            He gives the doctor a nod, then takes his wife by the arm, and gently guides her out to their car. They haven’t been home yet, so they head there first in order to drop off their luggage and all of their gifts. Unfortunately, when they pull up to their home, there is a familiar car in the driveway. He suppresses a growl and grits his teeth, mentally preparing himself for the ordeal he must now endure, as he parks his red Viper and exits the car.

            _‘Be nice,’_ his wife admonishes, as he comes around to her side to open the door for her.

            _‘I am always nice to your cousin,’_ he reminds.

            _‘I know, and I’m sure she’s used the spray so her scent won’t drive you batty,’_ she says, taking his hand and allowing him to help her from the car.

            In reality, he wants to keep her in front of him so her scent will dilute the smell of fairy just in case Claudine has forgotten to spritz herself down again. With how on edge and territorial he has been feeling lately, if the fairy has forgotten, his wife’s scent might be the only thing that keeps him from attacking.

            “Is it true?” Claudine asks without so much as a hello. Her voice is sad and disappointed.

            He keeps his mouth shut, but he goes on high alert. His wife senses his tension and presses against him. She is already trying to restrain him in the bond.

            “Why don’t you tell us what you’ve heard, and we’ll tell you if it’s true,” Sookie replies carefully.

            The fairy looks taken aback for a moment, but then she regroups and sets her jaw. “Is it true that you’re pregnant?”

            He takes a deep breath, testing the air and relaxes incrementally as he realizes that he can’t smell her. In front of him, his wife shivers a little in the night air.

            “Yes, it’s true,” Sookie confirms.

            Claudine blinks and drops her chin. “And who is the father?”

            “Why don’t we go inside and discuss this so Sookie can get out of the cold?” he offers guardedly.

            The fairy nods and they make their way into the house. Her car is blocking access to the garage bay that is empty, but he does not make an issue of it. They go in through the back door, and he moves ahead of his wife, taking point and scanning the dark house for threats and things out of place. Sookie flips on the lights in the kitchen, momentarily blinding him as his eyes adjust, but he has already determined that there is nothing out of the ordinary. Still, he is alert and on edge, but he is coming to realize that is because of his wife’s vulnerable condition, and not because of any real and present danger.

            _‘What should I tell her?’_ his mate asks.

            _‘Do not under any circumstances tell her the truth,’_ he warns.

_‘I can’t lie to her!’_

_‘Then allow me…’_ “The father is a member of my direct line,” he states firmly.

            “Your direct line?” the fairy repeats, her eyebrow raised.

            He nods. “I had an illegitimate son when I was alive. I have kept track of his descendents.”

            Both statements are absolutely true. They are just not true when put together, but he knows he has been vague enough for the fairy to automatically infer that they are related.

            “So Sookie has been impregnated with sperm from someone from your own bloodline?”

            “Yes,” he replies with absolute conviction.

            “And how does the donor feel about this?” the fairy questions.

            “He is fine with it.”

            “He is, is he?” Claudine responds, her eyes narrowing.

            Sookie comes to his defense, taking his hand and standing at his side. “He is. Now are you going to tell me why you are here asking these very personal questions?”

            He smiles inwardly. Too often he forgets that the female of the species is deadlier than the male. In that Kipling had it absolutely right. His mate is as territorial as he is, sometimes even more so, and now she is getting defensive. The fairy had best take heed.

            “I am your fairy godmother, Sookie. It’s my job to look out for you. I can’t protect you if you are keeping things from me,” Claudine complains.

            “It was never our intention to keep it from you. We were simply waiting until things were further along,” he replies reasonably.

            “I would have appreciated finding out from you personally instead of reading about it on Fangtasia’s blog site,” the fairy retorts.

            “That information was not made public on purpose. We have not made any public announcement regarding Sookie’s pregnancy. I am not responsible for the gossip mongers in my Area who cannot keep their mouths shut,” he sneers.

            Claudine huffs and puts her hands on her hips. “Then you shouldn’t have contracted to hire a Britlingen midwife. The news is all over the Supe community.”

            “I am assembling a team to protect Sookie while she is with child. It is my right to hire whomever I see fit. Quinn the weretiger, Sam Merlotte, vampires from my Area, and Vincent Piazzi are also on the team.”

            “I notice that I was not asked to be a member,” the fairy snorts.

            “We did not ask you because your Grandfather has many enemies who would pay undue attention to Sookie if her pregnancy became widely known,” he counters.

            “It already is widely known, and my **_Lord_** is not pleased to have been left out of the loop.”

            His fangs come down as he snarls. “That is not my problem. I have no responsibility to Niall’s ego. My responsibility is to my wife.”

            Aforementioned spouse places herself between him and the fairy, her hands out to both of them.

            “Okay, okay. Enough of this,” she scolds. “I’m not supposed to be under stress, remember?” she says to him.

            He huffs and backs down, but only a little, glaring at the fairy as Sookie turns to her.

            “And my guess is you want to be on the team, right?”

            “I have been ordered to protect you,” Claudine replies, glaring back at him.

            “Okay. I don’t have a problem with that, but you have to play nice with the others. That includes the vamps.”

            “I can play nice with vampires. It’s them who are a little too fond of me.”

            “I can control myself,” he growls.

            Sookie puts a hand on his chest, the flat of her palm firm against his sternum. “Easy. Easy. Enough with the posturing. You’re giving me a headache.”

            He flicks his eyes down at her, wondering if she is being serious. He senses no pain in the bond, only her irritation, so he assumes that she is being metaphorical.

            “Okay, Claudine, if you want to be on the team you need to coordinate with Eric and Quinn about what shifts you can take. Vincent and Quinn are my primary day people, but Sam comes on Tuesdays and Thursdays. I’m guessing all of that will change once the Britlingen gets here,” she says.

            She looks to him and he nods.

            “But we don’t know when she’s getting here, so in the meantime you work with them.”

            “I can stay with you on Mondays and some Fridays,” the fairy offers.

 _‘The scent of fairy in this house will drive Pam and Bill crazy,’_ he warns. _‘She must always remember to dampen her scent.’_

            “That’s fine by me, but you can’t forget to spray yourself down before you come here otherwise you’ll incite a bloodbath.”

            “I won’t forget,” Claudine promises.

            “Okay. Vincent is coming back on Sunday. Sam is with me tomorrow, and he was going to take Friday, but if you can do it, that will give him a break.”

            “I’ll make arrangements,” the fairy agrees.

            “Okay good. That’ll work. I’ll talk to Quinn about it tonight and get it worked out.”

            “What am I to tell Niall?”

            “Only what you’ve been told here,” Sookie answers.

            “Do you know what you are having and when you are due?”

            “I am due sometime in July, but I’m carrying twins. We won’t know the sex of the babies for another month.”

            “Twins!” the fairy gasps.

            His wife nods and he puffs out his chest a little, placing a proud hand on her shoulder.

            “Yes, twins,” Sookie confirms with a happy lilt in her voice.

            “Oh Sookie…” Claudine whispers, and in an instant she goes from stern disapproval to gushing glee. “That’s wonderful.”

            His wife smiles and he can smell the rising estrogen in the room, and suddenly the walls are too close.

            “I heard their heartbeats this evening,” Sookie admits, putting her hands over her womb.

            “Ooooohhhh,” Claudine responds, her eyes wide and glazed over. He starts to get nervous.

            “Eric heard them a week ago. They’re doing really well, getting stronger by the day.”

            “Have you decided on names yet? Do you need help outfitting a nursery?”

            He knows they are about to immerse themselves in baby planning so he beats a hasty exit, escaping from the gush-fest before he gets the uncontrollable urge to slaughter a small animal.

            He tunes out the tittering as Sookie takes Claudine to the room that will be the little ones’ bedroom and tells her all about the renovation plans and décor and other female things that men rarely understand and often say the wrong thing about, resulting in tears and upset. He’s learned that retreat is the better part of valor in these situations, and he quickly locks himself away in his office/library. Soon he will leave for _Fangtasia_ , but he wants to get caught up on his email and messages first.

            Quinn shows up at 9:00 pm, right on time to escort Sookie to _Stackhouse’s_ so she can get caught up on her work there. He meets the weretiger at the door and informs him of the addition to the protection detail. The man is less than thrilled.

            “I like Claudine, but a **_fairy?_** They attract all kinds of trouble, especially that one,” Quinn complains.

            “Niall has decreed that Claudine is to protect Sookie. It is best if she does that in such a way that we can keep an eye on her,” he counters, keeping his voice down because he can hear Claudine and Sookie approaching.

            “You do have a point,” the tiger agrees. “And I wouldn’t put it past Niall to try to take her to the Sidhe if he thinks Sookie isn’t being adequately protected.”

            He bares his teeth, his fangs coming fully down. “Then he’d best be prepared for me to rip the fabric between the worlds if he tries to take my wife from me.”

            “I’d help you. The last time someone was taken, they were never seen again.”

            “Last time who was taken?” Sookie asks as she and the fairy enter the front room.

            Sookie has changed into a smart-looking black skirt and a crisp white blouse with a charcoal grey vest, and she’s put on a pair of modest black heels. She looks very business-like and prim with her hair up in a neat bun.

 _‘Like a slutty librarian,’_ she sends wickedly.

            He suppresses a growl. _‘You’re missing the glasses.’_

_‘Details, details.’_

            “The last time someone was taken into the Sidhe, the realm of the fairies,” Quinn replies, an edge of warning in his voice as he locks his eyes on Claudine. The fairy blanches.

            “The Sidhe? Who’s being taken to the Sidhe?” his wife asks, confused.

            “We have some… concerns that your great-grandfather will attempt to… secure your safety by… relocating you,” he answers carefully, watching Claudine’s face intently for her reaction.

            No one ever said Sookie Stackhouse was a dummy as she turns to Claudine with an iron glare. “Is this true?”

            The fairy looks trapped, but she does stand her ground. “My Lord did mention the possibility of your coming to visit our realm if he felt you were in too much danger here.”

            “Well, you better tell your _Lord_ that I’m stayin’ put. I’m not goin’ anywhere away from Eric, and I’m having my babies right here in **_this_** realm. Understood?”

            Claudine looks sulky but nods. “I don’t think it will be necessary. You appear to be well looked after, especially once the Britlingen gets here. My Lord wishes to split the cost with you,” the fairy informs, looking at him.

            He nods. “I’ll consider it.”

            “Well, considering that the retainer alone is $700,000, my Lord is being very generous.”

            “$700,000!!” Sookie gasps, her eyes popping out of her head, and he glares at the fairy.

            “And that’s just the fee to get them to the negotiating table. The actual contractual agreement will be well over seven figures,” Claudine informs, a gleeful glint in her eyes. She’s sowing trouble and she knows it. Sookie looks as if she is about to give birth to a cat.

            “Eric?” she questions, daring him to deny what Claudine has just said.

            “My lover, you know that Britlingens are very expensive,” he reminds gently.

            “Eric! That is not expensive, that is the gross profit for _Stackhouse’s_ for six months!”

            “And your safety is worth every penny,” he assures her.

            “It won’t do us any good if we go broke before the babies are born!” she counters, her voice rising.

            He isn’t about to discuss their finances in front of anyone, and he lifts his lip to warn her. “We have no risk of going broke before the babies are born, but I will not discuss this with you right now.”

            “But you’d better believe that we are going to discuss it, buster!”

            He growls. He hates being called buster, even worse when she pokes at him with a finger. She has no idea how many times she has come within a millisecond of losing part of her hand to his snapping teeth.

            “We most assuredly will,” he confirms. “But for now I must get to _Fangtasia_ and you must get to _Stackhouse’s_ , and we will talk about this like reasonable adults later.”

            She seems to realize that she’s shamed him in front of Quinn and the fairy, and she backs down a little.

            “Okay. Okay, we will. I’ll go through the books and see where we can cut corners and increase our profit margin. Maybe we can up the cover charge by a couple of dollars.”

            “Do not do anything until we have talked about it,” he tells her firmly, and she lets him take control back by not arguing.

            “Okay. I’ll see you later tonight.”

            She steps forward and presents herself for a kiss. He’s still mad at her, so all he gives her is a quick peck. It’s scolding enough, and she is properly chastised.

            _‘I’m sorry,’_ she apologizes.

_‘I forgive you.’_

            “I will come for you at 2:00 am,” he promises, giving her a more enthusiastic kiss.

            “I love you.”

            His insides melt. “I love you too, now scoot. We have money to make. Babies are expensive.”

            That gets her, and all her bad mood vanishes as she beams at him. He gives her a smile and watches as Quinn escorts her out. The two of them share a look in which he once again silently threatens the tiger with dire consequences should any harm come to Sookie while she is in his care, and Quinn returns the threat with a silent retort that he’d flay his own hide off his body before he let anything happen to his charge. They are in complete agreement.

            “See you Friday,” the fairy says brightly as she breezes out the door, and he is heartily glad to see her go.

            She’s stupid because she has her back to him as they both leave the house to go to their respective cars. He’s parked her in because she was blocking the garage, so it would be easy to just pounce on her and drain her dry, but he refrains from doing so because 1) it would upset Sookie and 2) it would start a war, and he will need peace to safely raise his children.

            As he backs out of his driveway to head to his bar, he reflects on the evening’s turn of events. He knew that it would be impossible to keep Niall out of the loop, but he was not expecting the fairies to find out so soon. They are an unknown factor in the equation because he is uncertain how they will react. Right now, there is little danger as long as the fey believe Sookie’s pregnancy is a normal IVF pregnancy, and Niall is a formidable force within the fey world. Few will risk the Prince’s wrath by seeking to harm his great-granddaughter. Once the truth is out, however, there is no telling what the fairies will do.

            His analytical mind turns the problem over in his head. On one hand, the Supernatural world should not be too overly concerned because, like the recovered eggs from female vampires, his children will be human, and if there are reservations about breeding new vampire armies, there are many faster ways of making soldiers. It only takes three nights to turn a human into a vampire, but if that human must be raised from infancy…

            On the other hand, if the concern is breeding a replacement, or creating a family dynasty wherein a vampire fathers sons in order to turn them when they come of age, then that is a real issue. He does not deny the attraction of raising a son to adulthood, and then bringing him to his side for eternity. He remembers how Erik turned out as a normal, human man, and Erik’s mother was nowhere near the same caliber as Sookie. If both of them “throw” themselves well as his wife puts it, their children will inherit the best qualities of both of them, and that means they will be a force to contend with on a serious scale.

            He will raise any son of his to be a warrior, and the fairies would well know it. They might consider any boychild to be a serious threat. If that is the case, his children will be in dire peril from the moment they are born, and he foresees having to go on a killing spree violent and swift enough to make his enemies think twice about coming after his family. He has a reputation for being an easy-going guy, but a few reminders that this vampire has teeth might be in order.

            He does not know who he can trust within the fey world. Niall, of course, could be considered an ally. He certainly has been in the past. But if the Prince sees Sookie’s babies as a threat to the fey, then he may be their biggest enemy of all, especially because his wife trusts her great-grandfather and making her see the fairy as a danger may prove difficult. He prays it will not take the Prince attacking them before she sees the light. He prays that the fairy will not be an enemy at all. He does not want to go up against Niall, but he knows if it comes to it, he must kill the Prince quickly because he’ll only get one chance.

            He moves the chess pieces, making plans to cover any contingency. At present, his sights are set on the fanatics in the Fellowship of the Sun. If Sookie’s pregnancy is widely known throughout the Supe world, then he can be sure that the Fellowship knows too, and he cannot assume that their silence means that they have no plans to harm his wife. If anything, their lack of reaction is the most ominous of all.

            He has placed hidden bugs in _Gabriel’s_ monitoring for any hint of brewing trouble, and it is a well-known punishment for any of his subjects who have displeased him to be given the task of listening in on the “righteous” club. The standard penance is two months of being forced to endure Christian rock music from sundown to dawn. It is amazing how infrequently he has repeat offenders, but he must admit that those who have been given the job have performed the service well.

            Four times they have learned about plots against vampire and Supernatural-owned businesses, and they have been able to minimize the damage or thwart the plans altogether. They even did it in such a way that the stupid humans in _Gabriel’s_ do not suspect that they are being spied upon. The zealots falsely believe that “God would not allow the demons to stop them” and that “demons are too stupid to use modern technology.”

            That might have been true ten years ago, but it is not so now. Vampires have embraced the modern age with zeal, and there has even been a concerted effort to “recruit” individuals with desirable skills into the annals of vampirism so to speak. Several highly useful humans have crossed over and are now in the employ of influential vampire Kings and Queens. He even as a former high-profile computer mogul as part of his retinue himself, and his talents have proven to be quite valuable.

            Given the delicacy of the situation, he reasons that it would not be unwise to double the number of spying devices in _Gabriel’s,_ and perhaps add one or two at a couple of the Fellowship’s more prominent compounds, and he thinks about who he could assign the task. It might be a job for the Britlingen because they have the ability to become invisible, and he wonders if she will do it if it’s part of the original contract. He will have to ask if it can be added to the terms of employment when the time comes.

            Pam is waiting for him when he arrives at the service entrance to _Fangtasia_ , a tense and disapproving look on her face, and he scowls as he parks the car.

            “What is it?” he demands, striding briskly to join her where she is standing, her foot propping open the back door.

            His child crosses her arms over her chest and frowns. “You must do something about Steven.”

            He sighs tolerantly. “What has he done now?”

            “He’s done something with the bar’s network and completely fucked the WiFi at _Stackhouse’s_. No one has been able to get on-line since last night, the customers are complaining, and he insists that the problem isn’t with network, but with the customers’ operating systems.”

            He shakes his head and puts a hand over his forehead. There are nights when having a high maintenance techno-geek for a minion just isn’t worth the trouble.

 


	11. Chapter 11

Chapter Eleven

 

            The Britlingen arrives when his children have been inside his wife’s womb for ten weeks. She is a bear of a woman in both disposition and conformation, and he despises her from Day One, but that is acceptable because the feeling is mutual. He thinks she is rude and insubordinate, and she thinks he is a lying, conniving bloodsucker – which is true of course, just not where his mate is involved.

            But Sookie likes her even if his wife thinks the woman has “all the charm and grace of a bull in a china shop,” and no one can deny that she does an exemplary job of guarding Sookie day and night. She is also practical and no-nonsense, and very little rattles her composure. For those benefits alone he is willing to tolerate her, and not rip her head off and send her body back to her home dimension in pieces.

            Vincent helps temper the situation. Even though his services as a bodyguard are technically no longer needed, he has taken the boy under his wing to teach him swordcraft, and both the teen and Saroyah, the Britlingen midwife, have moved into the new guest quarters attached to the garage. Eventually, the two bedrooms will become separate rooms for each of their children, but for now they serve as a place to house their security forces so they can have some semblance of privacy. The quarters have a small kitchen and common living area, and their own private entrance.

            Sam Merlotte and the fairy are still frequent visitors to the house, although Saroyah thinks as little of Claudine as she does of vampires. It seems that the Britlingen has learned that fairies breed trouble like flies breed maggots, and she would be right. Niall has dropped in once since the official announcement, but he is otherwise keeping his distance. The Prince knows he has incurred Eric’s wrath by visiting during the daylight hours when he could not be there with his mate.

            In addition, Packmaster Herveaux has added a rotating guard detail of Weres that now patrol the neighborhood at regular intervals, making Werewolves now an unofficial part of the team. Together they comprise a group of three vampires, a weretiger, a fairy, an adolescent Fire Demon, a true Shifter, a Britlingen, a pack of Werewolves and a coven of witches courtesy of Amelia. All they need is for Calvin Norris to get involved, and they’ll have the werepanthers too.

            All in all they are a mismatched, hodge-podge of Supernaturals all orbiting their singular personal sun – a fragile, mortal human woman – and the level of cooperation among them is unprecedented. Sookie remains oblivious to the historical significance of her accomplishment or its obvious ramifications. For his mate, all of these magical creatures are her friends, and she does not see them as rivals or natural enemies or anything other than what they are (and have been) to her.

            Sookie has always been exceptionally good at seeing the person behind the fur or the fangs. She has never judged anyone based on their lineage or their undead status, and her genuine affection for all things Supe has made her an unofficial ambassador among the different races. She somewhat knows this, but in her typical way of pretending to be dumber than she actually is, she has never called direct attention to it. Few of them still fall for the naïve barmaid act, but it’s endearing nonetheless.

            As for himself, he wouldn’t give a flying fuck if elves joined the team so long as his wife is safe and happy. He long ago desensitized himself to the stench of shifter (wet dog is particularly repulsive) so the kaleidoscope of swirling scents that assault his nose on a daily basis is just the status quo. He is noticing, however, that the team is adjusting for his increased territorial posturing as Sookie progresses in her pregnancy. They are giving him a wide berth and deferring to him on little things, and even Sookie is being patient with him when he goes on one of his overprotective tirades.

            Saroyah accompanies them to their doctor appointment on January 18th. She does not wear armor the way the Britlingen bodyguards in Rhodes did, but she is still heavily armed and on alert. So far her fighting talents have not been needed, but he can never be too vigilant or paranoid when it comes to his wife’s safety. Tonight they are all on edge, but not because they fear an attack. Tonight is an important appointment where they might finally get some answers.

            Sookie has been pregnant for just over 14 weeks, and it is time for the amniocentesis. Once fluid samples are drawn from his wife’s womb, they will know the sex of their children, and they can finish decorating the nursery. Some couples do not want to know the gender of their unborn children, but in their case, he and Sookie have decided that they wish to know. It is likely that they will know even without the tests, because he has every confidence that his wife will be able to sense the little ones’ thoughts once their brains are developed enough.

            At the doctor’s office, everything looks fine on the ultrasound and the babies’ heart rates are up to a healthy 150 and 165 bpm respectively. When she is finished with the ultrasound examination, Dr. Marconi inserts a long needle into Sookie’s uterus under the direction of the ultrasound, and she extracts a syringe full of murky liquid to be sent off for testing. In years past, this procedure carried some risk of miscarriage, but new technology and better-trained doctors have vastly reduced the odds that the testing will cause problems. She does this twice to extract samples from both amniotic sacks.

            Under normal circumstances, they probably would have forgone the test completely, but the researchers in Colorado want the tests done for data collection purposes. They want to compare the results with the results of their pre-implantation screenings, and also to check for any genetic mutations that may have occurred some time after the initial tests. His wife knows very little of her own family’s medical history, and his genetic code is 1000 years out of date. There is no doubt that human DNA has changed over the last ten centuries, and it will be interesting to see how his ancient genes meld with Sookie’s modern ones.

            “How are you feeling?” the doctor asks his wife when she is finished with the extraction.

            “Good. I feel good,” Sookie replies, placing a hand over her womb. She is just starting to show, and she has been spending hundreds of dollars on maternity clothes (not that he cares. He loves it when his wife spends money on herself). “I mean, I’m getting tired more easily, and I’m craving all kinds of foods, and I feel like I have to pee all the time, but other than that, I’m great.”

            “All of that is normal. Are you having any nausea?”

            “A little. When she wakes,” Saroyah replies. He gives his wife a look and she smiles sheepishly.

 _‘Have you been suffering morning sickness?’_ he asks, raising an eyebrow.

 _‘A little. It’s not bad though.’_ “A little bit. It was worse before, but now it seems to be getting better.”

            “Try eating smaller meals more frequently. That might help with any nausea or heartburn issues. As for the frequent urination… I’m afraid that’s common as the womb stretches and puts pressure on your bladder. If it gets worse or if you start having severe heartburn, call me immediately.”

            “I will,” his wife promises.

            “You’re entering the period where your babies are going to be growing and developing very quickly. You are likely to experience exhaustion, strong cravings, emotional changes... A twin pregnancy is more demanding on a woman’s body than a single one. Be gentle with yourself. Don’t push yourself too hard. I already know you are a hard worker, but now is the time to take it easy and delegate some responsibility to others. You might think you’re slacking off, but you’re really working very hard to nurture and help these two little people grow strong. That’s going to take a lot out of you,” Dr. Marconi lectures gently.

            He smiles and puts an arm around his wife’s shoulders. Now that she is done with the ultrasound and fluid extraction, she can take her feet out of the stirrups and sit up.

            “You can be certain that we are making sure she rests and takes it easy,” he vows, ignoring his wife’s irritated poke.

            The doctor smiles at him. He knows from reading her thoughts that she wishes all of her clients’ partners were as attentive and devoted as he is, and that she thinks he will make an excellent father despite the fact that he’s undead. He secretly hopes he can live up to those expectations, and his own view of how a father should be. His father was a great man, a practical god among his people, and Eric’s own memory of him borders on worship.

            Eirikr the Elder was a nearly mythical figure; a warlord of almost inhuman strength and intelligence, and even when he was alive, Eric had doubts that he could fill his father’s boots. Sometimes he wonders if he didn’t repeatedly go off to war in order to get himself killed in glorious battle, and thus spare himself the pressure of having to live up to his father’s expectations of him. He didn’t mind being a leader; he was groomed to be his father’s successor almost since the day he was born, and he was a natural at it, and he loved being a warrior. He’d desperately wanted to please his father, to prove time and time again that he was worthy of his father’s love and praise, but from early on the yoke of responsibility had been locked around his neck like an iron shackle.

            It is said that Eirikr came into the birthing room the moment he heard his newborn son’s first cries, and he had looked down at him and judged him worthy of living. It would seem cruel and inhumane in these modern days, but back then it was common practice to reject an infant that was deemed defective. If the newborn was judged to be infirm or ill-formed, it would either be exposed to the elements or offered up for adoption. There were no hospitals or wheelchairs in the Viking age, and life was hard and cruel. There was no place for a child who was handicapped. Nowadays all life is considered valuable and worthy, but back then, there was nowhere for anyone who could not earn his keep.

            As clan leader, Eirikr was expected to breed strong sons, and the firstborn was that much more important. The birth of a robust baby boy was not only proof of Eirikr’s right to lead, but it virtually ensured the warrior’s continued status and immortality. Too bad he would never know how immortal his legacy would actually become.

            Eric remembers watching his father from afar, many years after his first death. The man had lost all but one of his sons, and Björn was no warrior. His back had been bent by years of loss and grief, but yet Eric still saw the light in his father’s eyes. And he saw how gently Eirikr dealt with his illegitimate grandson. Eric had never doubted that his father had loved him, but to see the once great clan leader play mock war games with the boy was an endearing scene. Despite all of his losses, Eirikr still kept his head high and valued what he still had left. It was a lesson his vampire son would keep with him over the centuries. Fame and power are fleeting, but no matter what you should always be grateful for what you have.

            He vows to himself that he will always be grateful for the gift he is being given right now, and he smiles down at his wife with tender affection. She smiles back, and he is lost in her eyes and in the love that swirls through the bond. That love is the bedrock of his world.

            “You’ve been off the progesterone for two weeks now. Have you experienced any pain or spotting?” Dr. Marconi asks, bringing them out of The Moment and back to the examination room.

            “Nope,” his wife replies.

            “There has been no scent of blood on her,” he confirms, holding her hand.

            “There are no signs that suggest that the placentas might be coming loose,” Saroyah adds.

            Dr. Marconi nods. “At this point, that is our biggest concern, but since she has stopped taking the progesterone, and there does not appear any adverse effects to her discontinuing its use, I am confident that things will progress as normal. If the placentas hadn’t been making their own progesterone, they would have detached by now.”

            The Britlingen nods. “Yes, but I have told her that she will not be in the clear until the Quickening.”

            The doctor nods. “I’ll relax a little more then, too.”

            The Quickening refers to the moment the mother can feel her unborn child move inside of her. This typically happens somewhere within the fourth or fifth month, and it is usually a few more weeks before the movements can be felt outside of the womb. The Quickening is when a woman truly realizes that there is something alive growing inside of her, and it is considered a magical and sacred moment. Sookie is eagerly awaiting when she will feel the twins, but he knows he will feel better once they have passed the 24th week mark. With modern technology, if Sookie loses the babies after that, there is still a good chance that they can be saved if they get medical help in time.

            He lets Sookie go to use the toilet and get dressed. Saroyah goes with her, the ever-present shadow at his wife’s shoulder. As he is setting up the next appointment with the doctor, he asks when they will get the results of the amniocentesis.

            “A couple of weeks. We’ll run a battery of tests to make sure everything is as it should be developmental-wise and check for genetic defects. I’ll call you as soon as they come in,” Dr. Marconi replies.

            “Yes. We are particularly interested in the sex of the babies.”

            “I think I can answer that question with some high degree of accuracy right now.”

            He blinks at the woman. “You can?”

            The doctor nods. “I was able to get a pretty good look at both fetuses during the ultrasound, and I am fairly confident that…”

            He holds up a hand. “Stop! Say nothing until my wife is back from the bathroom. I want her to hear it the same time I do.”

            Dr. Marconi gives him a surprised and pleased smile. He does not need to lower his shields enough to read her mind to know that she thinks him a very considerate and loving husband to be willing to wait to hear the news. She doesn’t realize that he knows Sookie would kill him if he let the doctor spill the beans without her there, and his action is less altruism than it is self-preservation.

            “Okay. I’ll wait then. Mrs. Northman should be back soon.”

            “I’m back now,” his wife says guardedly.

            He smiles smugly because he knew she was just around the corner, and waits patiently for her to come up to them. Saroyah is at her shoulder as always.

            “What is it?” she asks.

            “The doctor tells me she can tell us the sex of the little ones now if we don’t want to wait for the test results to come back,” he replies.

            Sookie gives the doctor a look that mirrors his own. “You can?”

            Dr. Marconi nods. “Yes. With some degree of confidence. I can’t be 100-percent certain, of course, but I’m relatively sure.”

            Sookie grabs his hand and squeezes tight in excitement. “Well?” she prompts.

            The doctor smiles. “I can tell you with almost guaranteed certainty that you are having at least one boy. The other might be a boy if the umbilical chord was hiding a penis, but as of right now, I believe the other fetus is a girl.”

            Sookie’s eyes open wide. “A boy **_and_** a girl? One of each?”

            “As of right now, that is what I believe. The test results on the amniotic fluid should confirm my suspicions.”

            He feels the pride filling him and his joy spills over into the bond, but it is met with his mate’s joy as they turn to each other and smile.

            “A boy and a girl, Eric,” his wife whispers.

            “A daughter and a son,” he responds.

            “Yeah,” she breathes, and he can feel her elation like fireworks sparkling across the bond.

            “You should start to feel them moving in a couple of weeks. You’re going on 15 weeks now so they should be getting big enough to feel pretty soon. You might think it’s just gas at first, but you’ll soon figure out that it isn’t you,” Dr. Marconi tells them. “You can also expect to outgrow your clothing more rapidly as your waistline expands.”

            “Am I going to get really huge?” his wife asks with some concern.

            “You can expect to get significantly larger than you are now, but each pregnancy is different for each woman. You are carrying two so you can expect to be bigger than a woman carrying only one baby. Do be careful to watch your weight. We’ll be monitoring that carefully as you progress.”

            “I was reading that I should expect to gain between thirty and forty pounds because I’m carrying twins,” Sookie says.

            “Yes, that would be a fair estimate.”

            His wife gives him a woeful look. “I’m gonna get fat, Eric.”

            He smiles indulgently and kisses her. “You will be beautiful. You will look like a queen bearing the heir to the throne.”

            It is true. He is having a son, a son to inherit his empire. He can already see the boy smiling up at him as he once smiled at his father. He imagines presenting the child with his first weapon and showing him how to use it. He will be a great and powerful man, and together they will rule northern Louisiana: the son by day and the father by night. Their hold on the Area will be unbreakable. 

            And he will raise his daughter to be a handmaiden to Hlin. Will she be a Valkyrie? Will she ride the storms on dragonback, the wind whipping her hair and the moonlight glinting off her armor?

 _‘Hey, wait a minute,’_ his wife cuts him off. _‘How do you know they’ll be just like you? Kids aren’t Xeroxes of their parents, y’know.’_

            He blinks at her. _‘What do you mean?’_

            “Maybe,” she says aloud, mostly for the doctor’s benefit. “When is my next appointment?”

            Dr. Marconi looks at the appointment book. “I’d like to see you on March 1st.”

            “Same time?”

            “Yes. We’ll need to start adjusting once Daylight Savings goes into effect, but 7:30 should still be after sunset then,” the doctor says.

            “We’ll be here. Thank you so much,” Sookie replies, taking his hand. He is still pondering her words about his unborn son.

            “My pleasure. I’ll call you with the test results when they come in.”

            “That would be great. See you on March 1st. Be safe,” his wife says as she gives him a little push towards the door.

            “You too. Be safe.”

            The doctor waves as his wife ushers them out the exit. He waits until they are in the parking lot before continuing their earlier conversation.

            _‘What do you mean my son might not be like me?’_ he demands.

            He does not bother with verbal speech because Saroyah is well aware that he and his wife share thoughts. He has no fear of that fact being revealed, however, because part of Saroyah’s contract is complete client confidentiality, and the Britlingens have been known to execute members of their own guild who break that law. Saroyah, thankfully, is not a telepath herself. He does not know if he could handle a Britlingen in his head. Often it is too much that Vincent is in there.

 _‘Well… Jason is nothing like my father. What makes you think your son will be just like you?’_ she replies.

            He scoffs as he holds the car door open for her. Saroyah has already gone ahead and made sure the coast is clear for them to exit the parking garage.

 _‘Forgive me for touching on such a sensitive subject, my love, but your parents died when you were very young. There is no telling what Jason would have been like if he’d had a father to raise him,’_ he points out as he guides the car down the ramp. They’ve taken Sookie’s Ford sedan instead of his Viper tonight because it is more comfortable for three.

            _‘True, but what I do remember of my father… Jason was already way different from him. You can’t expect your son to be a little version of you. What if he doesn’t want to be a warrior?’_

_‘What if he?... Well, what would he be then?”_

            She shrugs. _‘I dunno. Maybe he’ll want to be a bartender or a lawyer or maybe even a hairdresser.’_

            His eyebrows fly up to his hairline. **_‘A hairdresser?’_**

            Sookie snickers. _‘Or maybe a dancer. How about a ballet dancer? I mean, his dad looks so great in pink Lycra, I can’t imagine any son of yours wouldn’t look just as good.’_

_‘No son of mine would be prancing around onstage in **Lycra!** ’_

            She looks at him, her eyes serious. _‘But what if he did? What if that is what made him happy? What if he’s gay? Would you be okay with that?’_

            He sputters and grips the steering wheel as he speeds faster through the streets of Shreveport. It is possible. Fuck. **_Anything_** is possible. The very fact that the little ones exist at all is proof of that. She’s waiting for him to answer, but he can’t wrap his head around it. What will he do if his son is not a fighter like he is? In the end, he shoves it off with a sneer.

            _‘You’re being ridiculous, woman.’_

_‘Any more ridiculous than picturing my baby girl wearing a horned helmet and riding around on a dragon?’_

            He winces, but rallies. ‘ _But what’s to say she won’t be a Valkyrie?’_

_‘What’s to say our son won’t be a ballet dancer?’_

            He growls and huffs at her, but she is smiling at his irritation and that softens him.

            _‘How about… they’ll become what they become and we leave it at that?’_ he offers.

            Her smile widens and she nods, her hand absently rubbing over her womb. ‘ _Deal.’_

            He leans over to kiss her on the cheek when they are stopped at a red light. _‘Deal. But I’m still giving him a wooden sword for his first birthday.’_

            She slaps him, but he just laughs as he turns the car into their driveway.

 

88888888

 

            It isn’t that easy. As the weeks progress, and his wife moves further into her pregnancy, the changes within her and within him are becoming more and more evident. She is becoming more and more unpredictable as the hormones rage within her body – her moods and cravings fluctuating wildly from moment to moment.

            For a being whose relative health is static, and whose overall emotional tableau is a flat plain, dealing with the huge upswings and crashes in his wife’s feelings is like riding a rollercoaster that’s been hijacked by a psychopath. He’s been riding The Incredible Hulk for three weeks, and he desperately wishes vampires were capable of vomiting because at least then maybe he’d stop feeling so motion sick all of the time.

            His only comfort is in knowing that he has some tempering effect on her emotions during the nighttime hours, but with the number of those hours dwindling as they pass into the spring months, his ability to influence her moods is weakening.

             His work is hampered by the fact that she is now suffering from migraines and a stuffy nose, and they have found that environmental irritants make the symptoms worse. He has installed a state-of-the-art air filtration system on the house because air pollution, smoke and fumes can trigger her. They’ve removed all out gassing chemicals from the house and replaced them with natural cleaners. Sookie has forsaken alcohol, caffeine, and artificial sweeteners, but she clings to her ice cream and chocolate because she craves them.

            The doctor won’t prescribe anything because the risk to the babies is too great, and Sookie has sworn she won’t take anything anyway because she’s been reading too many Nature Lover magazines that decry the evils of modern drugs. She is even cautious with his blood even though a sip or two does seem to help her discomfort. Baths and aromatherapy also seem to ease her suffering, so they spend a great deal of time in candlelit rooms with soft music and warm water. He has taken to massaging her growing belly with special cream to prevent stretch marks, and the gentle touch soothes her.

            He remembers well the first time he was rubbing along Sookie’s abdomen, and he felt something moving under his hand. They were warned that the Quickening would be soon, and his wife claimed to feel something a week before, but he had yet to feel his children moving within Sookie’s womb. It was a profound and awe-inspiring moment.

            They make love as often as Sookie would like, which seems to fluctuate on any given night between “Don’t touch me!” and “Take me now, you big Viking!” with very little in-between. It all depends on how bad of a day she’s had, and how much rest she actually got since she is sleeping less and less. With frequent urination, constipation, headaches, and backaches, she doesn’t get much undisturbed rest, but he prides himself in fucking her unconscious every chance she gives him. Since she constantly smells of blood because her gums are bleeding, he is always ready to please her in whatever capacity she requires.

            Team Sookie, or the S-Team for short, is still operating with the same commendable efficiency with rotating shifts and duty rosters, except for the fact that Pam and Bill have dropped off the rolls of regular guards. His protective instincts and mate guarding have worsened to the point where any vampire within twenty feet of his wife is perceived to be a threat, and he’s been going into territorial rages whenever they come around. That doesn’t sit well with Sookie because Pam and Bill are her friends, so they’ve agreed to a compromise. Pam and Compton are allowed short visits so long as there are at least two guards with her – usually Saroyah, and Vincent or Quinn – and he cannot be present otherwise he might rip his minions to shreds.

            The problem is slowly resolving itself because Sookie’s bleeding gums, and the scent of her pregnancy, is becoming too much for his child, and Pam’s visits are less and less frequent. Compton, however, is another issue altogether. It seems the heavier and more pregnant Sookie gets, the further Bill entrenches himself into their lives. He hates this and sees the undead Southern Gentleman as a rival (as ridiculous as that may sound,) but not even death threats have been able to scare Compton off. It doesn’t help that Sookie sides with Bill, but she does.

            “I can trust him. You can trust him,” she tells him when he sees red and wants to gouge the dark brown eyes right out of Compton’s face. “He’s been a husband and a father, and he’s young enough to remember what it was like. He can help you. Besides, he’s pledged himself to me, and I’ve chosen him as your Second.”

            So much has happened since that night that he’d forgotten about Bill’s visit to Sookie at _Stackhouse’s_ on the night they broke the news of his wife’s pregnancy to their closest allies. Only now does he understand what it was that Bill wished to discuss with her. Compton pledged his service, even if it meant going against his Sheriff, and his mate – his naïve, ever trusting mate – not only accepted his pledge, but chose Bill as her protector should anything ever happen to him.

            In the vampire world, a Second is the one who will step in to take the place of a superior vampire should that vampire be unable to fulfill his obligations. Under normal circumstances, his Second would be Pam, but Sookie exercised her right to choose (as she often has, the irritating little wench that she is) and usurped that authority by naming Bill as Second in matters relating to her.

            If he had been a different vampire, he would have solved the problem by killing Bill, but Sookie knows he would never hurt her so deeply as to murder someone she once loved (He puts up with Quinn for Thor’s sake!). Besides, he is far too practical to destroy one of his biggest moneymakers. The downside is, Bill is now at their house, and at _Stackhouse’s_ , at least twice a week. He is never there when Eric is near, but Eric can smell him on the furniture and in the room. He tried laying down the law, but his wife proved that even 1000-yr old Vikings know not to go against a breeding female when she gets her hackles up.

            He is not without his allies though, and Vincent tells him everything that happens during the visits when he is present. Saroyah, of course, hates Bill as much as she hates him, but she is obligated to tell him everything because he is her employer, so he gets the recaps of Bill’s visits from her as well. The only one who won’t play ball is Quinn, and he’s half a mind to think that it’s a conspiracy involving both of Sookie’s former lovers, but Vincent and Saroyah tell him that Quinn and Bill can’t stand each other so that theory is unlikely.

            In his calmer moments, after he has reasserted his authority and covered over the interloper’s scent with his own (Sookie is smart enough not to allow Bill to hug her), he can admit that Bill’s presence is calming for his wife because she trusts him in ways that she does not trust the Britlingen midwife. For all that they are both female, and Saroyah is a mother herself, the two women simply do not mesh on an emotional level.

            Sookie looks to the midwife to guide her in decision-making and safety issues, but on personal things she looks to Bill. She tells Bill about her worries and her fears, about her discomfort and her dreams for the future. Bill knows her cravings almost as well as he does, and more than once he’s received a call from Bill while he is at _Fangtasia_ telling him to bring home this food or that drink because Sookie has expressed a craving for it.

            He now knows everything they discuss if they meet at home or in Sookie’s office at _Stackhouse’s_ because he’s had both places bugged – Hey, he’s never claimed not to be a devious bastard, and really, what was he supposed to do? – and when he listens to the secret recordings, or opens up a web browser that shows the video feed from the hidden cameras, he is often surprised by the level of trust and openness Sookie shows to her friends. Amelia, in particular, is privy to a whole host of little secrets and private stories.

            He puts on the recorded audio from the witch’s afternoon visit, playing softly in the background as he sits in his office at _Fangtasia_ with the door closed. The two women titter and discuss sex and the changes in their bodies. It’s an amusing conversation that entertains him while he does boring paperwork, but apparently Sookie is not looking forward to having bigger breasts. He didn’t know that the ones she had were already causing her some back pain, and now they will get bigger once she is breastfeeding. The witch tells her not to expect her boobs to shrink back to the size they were before the twins were born, and his wife does not like the sound of that.

            “Great as if they didn’t already ogle my rack to begin with. Now they’ll ogle me even more,” he hears Sookie sigh.

            “Oh, Sookie, you have great boobs. I doubt Eric will complain,” the witch replies with a giggle.

            “Pfft. Eric doesn’t have to lug these melons around. God, Amelia, I’m getting so fat! I’ve outgrown the maternity pants I bought last month! At this rate, I’ll be buying tents to make dresses, and my belly will hit the door way before I do!”

            “Sookie, honey, you’re carrying twins. You’re lucky you can still see your feet.”

            “Feet? I have feet?”

            He hears Amelia laugh. “Yes, and you should have them up. I know you were telling me that your ankles were starting to swell up.”

            “Ugh. Yes. Just one more thing I have to deal with on top of everything else.”

            “Do you want to go lie down?”

            He frowns. The one place he does not have listening devices in is their bedroom.

            “No. If Eric smells someone else in the bedroom, he’ll go all Alpha Male on me, and I don’t want to deal.”

            “I could head out if you want to take a nap.”

            “No, I don’t want you to go. Being with you makes me feel normal. I’m surrounded by Supes all the time; I’m afraid I’ll forget what it’s like to be human.”

            “Is it really so bad?”

            He is so interested in her answer that he stops what he is doing and focuses on her reply.

            “No. No, it isn’t. I’m just hormonal as Saroyah likes to tell me.”

            Amelia chuckles. “Oh, I know how it is. I had a full-blooded Werewolf cowering in the garage.”

            “Now that I would have paid money to see. I’ve never had Eric cowering, but I have had him backpedaling.”

            He can hear the fond affection in Sookie’s voice and he smiles.

            “He’s been awful lately, huh?”

            “It’s just instinct, Amelia. He isn’t human, and he’s got all these primitive urges – some of which can be very nice, believe you me.”

            “Oh, I’m sure he and Trey are much more alike in that department than they think they are,” the witch snickers.

            “Don’t you dare let either of them ever hear you say that.”

            “Oh, trust me, my lips are sealed.”

            _‘Too late,’_ he thinks with a smirk.

            “You’d better for both our sakes. They’re hard enough to handle even without the posturing. I swear if Eric could pee, he’d have pissed on every bush and tree on our property, and maybe even pissed around the house.”

            Amelia bursts out into gales of laughter, and he hears Sookie join in even as his eyebrows go up into his hair. Piss around his property indeed. But maybe he can mark his territory in other ways. With the heads of vanquished enemies on pikes, perhaps? Nah, his wife would stake him on the spot.

            “Oh! Oh, Sookie. Trey already did that at our place! I was like – what the hell do you think you’re doing? And he says – marking my territory so no strange dogs come sniffing around!”

            Sookie giggles and it’s a wonderful sound.

            “Amelia, it’s so bad between Eric and Bill that it’s almost funny. Every time Eric comes home after Bill’s been here, he has to sit on every piece of furniture and go into every room Bill’s been in to cover the scent. They’re like two cats rubbing their faces and spraying on everything,” she admits in a conspiratorial whisper, and he glowers at the “cat” reference.

            Thank goodness this was recorded hours ago. If he had been listening in in real time, he might not have been able to keep all his emotions from her. He wouldn’t put it past his wife to figure out he is snooping by matching his emotions to hers across the bond.

            “Has he let you sniff his butt yet?”

            He is lucky to have not been sipping a TrueBlood, otherwise he might have spit it all over his keyboard with the way he chokes at that statement.

            “Amelia! You are so bad!” his wife chides, snickering.

            The witch’s reply is more laughter.

            There is a cursory knock on the door, and he quickly stops the playback just as Pam enters the office.

            “I have the year-end inventory and payroll reports for you,” his child says, then she flicks her eyes to his monitor and smirks. “Listening in on the nanny cam again?”

            He scowls. “I have no idea what you are talking about.”

            Pam gives him a look that he would not tolerate from anyone else. “Oh, please. I saw the invoices for the bugs. Don’t worry; I think it was a good idea. Just don’t ever let Sookie find out what you’ve done.”

            He sits back in his chair and smiles ferally. “It is a nice way to keep tabs on Compton without pissing her off.”

            “You should have just killed him.”

            He wishes. “I could not have done so without damaging my bond with Sookie. Our entire relationship is based on mutual trust.”

            “Yes, and you’ve bugged your house with secret cameras because you trust her so much.”

            “I trust my wife implicitly. It is everyone else I don’t trust,” he replies, letting his fangs run down.

            “As well it should be. I wouldn’t trust Compton or Quinn.”

            “Quinn’s mind is open to me. I would know if he were plotting against me, and he would not dare to cross me because then he would be sent back to the Pits. He still owes over $150,000 on his marker for his mother’s debts and the penalties I added for his part in the Nevada take-over. As far as I’m concerned, he provided intelligence to the enemies of Louisiana and helped de Castro infiltrate our territory and murder our Queen.”

            “And he jilted Sookie and betrayed her trust,” Pam adds shrewdly.

            “And he jilted Sookie and betrayed her trust,” he concedes. “As for Compton… their conversations seem centered around his recollections of fatherhood, and her struggles with pregnancy. She will complain to him when she won’t to me. She’s trying to “spare me” again.”

            “She’s always been that way,” his child points-out.

            “I know, but I thought I’d broken her of that particular annoying habit.”

            Pam laughs cynically. “One does not break Sookie Stackhouse of anything unless you truly mean to break her.”

            He lifts a lip in warning. “Never. My wife will never be broken.”

            “So long as you stand between her and every other powerful vampire who would like to possess her.”

            He places the flat of his hand down on his desk and stares at his child until she has the good sense to lower her eyes and submit. “I have no intention of ever giving her up, and I will kill anyone who tries to take her from me.”

            “Which is as it should be. Which also means you should go over these reports and tally our profits so we know how much to send to Felipe for our year-end tribute obligation.”

            He sneers. “I’d rather pay taxes.”

            Pam shrugs. “We’ll pay them too. Bruce is already working on the forms.”

            He shakes his head. “There are nights when I wish we’d never gone public.”

            “You know why we had to.”

            He sighs. “Yes.”

            “And if we hadn’t then… you would never have opened this bar, and you would never have met Sookie, and she would not be bearing your children right now.”

            Trust Pam to speak the honest truth of things. “Yes. You are right, Pam.”

            She smiles, her fangs showing a little at the praise. “I know I am.”

            He waves a hand at her and she is dismissed. She leaves without another word and closes the door behind her. He scowls at the reports she’s left on his desk and grinds his teeth. Every year, in addition to the monthly tithe taken from his profits, every subject in Felipe’s regime is required to pay a year-end tribute based on overall yearly income. He finds this extra “tax” oppressive, and also thinks it will ultimately lead to de Castro’s demise.

            Vampires will put up with a great deal, but the one thing that will always lead to revolt is grossly unequal distribution of wealth. The year-end tribute is a hardship on many of his subjects, and he has tried in vain to get the King to institute a sliding scale approach to the tribute to minimize its impact, but he has met with resistance each time. Felipe is greedy, and it will be his downfall. As for himself, his subjects know that he has tried to negotiate some fairness into the equation, so he will get the credit from them for trying. If there is a rebellion, he is sure his people will be loyal to him.

            But there is no hint of revolution yet. It’s only been a decade. He gives the King sixty years before his overtaxed subjects have enough of it and demand Felipe’s head. If all goes well, he will have maneuvered himself into a more profitable position by then, and he might even be able to expand his borders. If he has a son to help rule, he can increase his territory considerably, perhaps even eventually take over the state.

            His children will be extremely long-lived because he has every intention of giving them his blood once they have reached maturity. It is no good to give developing children vampire blood because it stunts their growth, but if he is lucky, they will gladly accept his blood when they are adults. Secretly, he wishes that if he is **_really_** lucky, they will let him bring them over, but that is a dream he keeps tightly locked and sealed away lest his wife ever get a hint of his hidden desires.

            He puts the reports aside and returns to the staffing issues and merchandise orders he was going though before Pam came in. His hand reaches to resume the playback on the “nanny cam,” but a sound coming through the channel for the bug in his living room catches his attention. A door has opened, and it sounds like the front door. That is odd because it is only ten o’clock, and Sookie was not due to leave _Stackhouse’s_ until 11:30. She’s reduced her hours and cut the number of days she goes into work, but tonight was a work night because she has her own year-end things to take care of. But he cannot deny what’s he’s heard, and he can hear the sound of heavy feet coming through the door.

 _‘Quinn and the Britlingen,’_ he identifies.

            Sure enough, he hears Quinn’s gruff voice a moment later.

            “I told you you should have quit an hour ago,” the tiger scolds.

            “Shut up,” his wife’s irritable voice snaps back, and he can hear the pain in her voice. His senses go on high alert and he freezes in place, listening.

            “You’re being stubborn,” Quinn accuses.

            “I am not. I have responsibilities, damn it. Eric has all this year-end stuff that has to get done before the end of March. I have to get the reports for _Stackhouse’s_ done.”

            “So bring ‘em home and do them here. You know the loud music and the strobe lights at the club give you headaches.”

            “This isn’t a headache,” his wife insists, but then he hears her cry out, and he nearly breaks the desk as he stands up. It is very strange that he does not feel her pain…

            “Damn it! Sookie, lay down. Over here on the couch, now. Get your feet up! Christ, Eric is gonna kill me for sure.”

            “No, he won’t. I’m blocking the bond.”

            Ah. So that explains it. And he figures that it is okay for him to feel anger because she won’t be able to sense it.

            “Doesn’t matter. I’m gonna tell him!” the weretiger threatens.

            “You can’t! He’s already crazy overprotective. He’ll make me quit, and I’m not ready to be stuck in this house all day!” she argues.

            He growls and clicks to bring up the streaming video from the hidden camera. If Sookie is on the couch, he should have a clear view so long as no one is standing in front of the lens. A moment later, he sees an image of his wife slumped on the plush sofa. She looks exhausted and in agony. The weretiger is hovering, his hands hanging useless at his sides.

            “You keep getting these pains, and I won’t have any choice. I practically had to carry you out of there. You think people didn’t notice?”

            “I’m sorry, I was too busy nearly fainting to notice. Agh!”

            He sees her jerk with pain and grab her hip.

            “Damn it, Sookie! There’s nothing I can do!” Quinn yells in frustration.

            “The house and grounds are clear,” Saroyah’s gruff voice says right before she comes into view. “How is she?”

            “I still have the stabbing pain in my back and the traveling pains going up my leg and hip,” his wife replies.

            “It’s most likely ligament pain as your uterus stretches. Lay down on your side,” the Britlingen orders.

            He hears his wife panting, but sees her comply as she curls up on the couch. “God, I’m still dizzy…”

            “You’re probably anemic. You’re losing blood in two ways. You’re producing blood for the babies and your mate is sucking it out of you,” Saroyah chides.

            “Eric hasn’t fed from me in two weeks, except for what he’s licked off my teeth because my gums are bleeding all the time,” Sookie growls back defensively.

            “Regardless, we should call the doctor and have you tested.”

            “I agree,” his wife concedes.

            “Hey, guys, what’s up?” he hears Vincent ask. “You’re back early.”

            “Hey, kid. Sookie had a spell, and she’s got those pains again,” the tiger answers.

            He sees the young Fire Demon come into the scope of the camera.

            “Your back, Sookie?” Vincent questions.

            “Um hum,” she replies and it’s almost a whimper.

            He sees a tender look come to Vincent’s face that he knows no one will ever see on the face of Vincent’s father as the boy sits down next to Sookie and takes off his long, fingerless gloves.

            He watches as Vincent places his hands behind Sookie, and he knows right away that the boy is using his Gift to heat his hands such that they ease the tight muscles and aches along Sookie’s spine. The effect is almost immediate, and he is relieved to see Sookie relax.

            “Damn, you’re good at that,” his wife sighs.

            “I’ve been using my Gifts to give warm massages for years. I’ve had lots of practice,” Vincent says with a chuckle.

            “The girls must love you.”

            “You have no idea,” the young man replies with a fond smile.

            “I’m gonna head back to the Club,” Quinn says.

            “Okay. I’ll hold down the fort here with Saroyah. Eric is due back right after midnight anyway,” Vincent agrees.

            “I will contact the doctor and see if I can get an appointment to have Mrs. Northman tested for anemia,” Saroyah announces.

            “Okay.”

            He sees both the Britlingen and the weretiger exit the scope of the camera, leaving only Vincent and Sookie behind on the sofa. Vincent’s hands are moving along Sookie’s back slowly and the pain is fading from her face. He is both extremely relieved and ragingly jealous.

            “So… Helga and Hägar crushing your spine again?” Vincent comments with a smile. The results from the amniocentesis have confirmed that Sookie is carrying a boy and a girl.

            Sookie laughs. “Don’t ever let Eric hear you call his kids names from a comic strip.”

            He laughs himself. Hägar the Horrible is an amusing diversion, and even after ten years of marriage, his wife still doesn’t know that he has all of the Hägar compilations dating back to 1974 tucked away in a safety deposit box in Detroit. A man has to have _some_ secrets after all. He has a Hägar T-shirt with “Pillage Idiot” on it in there too. It was a gift from Pam as a joke. If only she knew…

            “Oh, I dunno. I think Lucky Eddie’s a good name.”

            “We haven’t had the name conversation yet,” she adds with a wistful sadness in her voice, and he sees her stroke her womb absently.

            “You will.”

            The boy is right. There will come a time in the very near future when they must discuss names for their children, but he knows Sookie is afraid to name them just yet because too many things can still go wrong.

            “Did your parents have it before you were born?” he hears his wife ask.

            “My father had no knowledge of me until I was three years old. Mom hid my existence from the demon world, and she would have kept me hidden if I hadn’t lost my temper and almost burned our apartment building down,” Vincent answers.

            “Oh. That’s horrible.”

            “S’ok. No one was hurt. Izzy put the flames out with the hall fire extinguisher so the damage was minimal.”

            “Still. That must have been terrible for you.”

            “Yeah. It was. I was real out of control back then. I was burning through all the wards Mom put on me. I was setting fire to things. Mom had no choice but to find Zolan. He was the only one who could help me,” the boy admits sadly.

            “Why did Maria name you Vincent?” Sookie asks, obviously changing the subject.

            “Izzy’s grandpa was named Vincent.”

            “That was really nice of her to name you after Izzy’s grandfather.”

            Vincent shrugs. “She could have named me after her grandfather, but then I would have been called Fonso. I like Vincent better.”

            Sookie giggles. “Me too.”

            Vincent smiles and pulls his hand back. “Better now?”

            “Yes, much. Thanks.”

            “I’m sure Eric would have done the same thing if he were here.”

            He sees her nod. “Yeah, but without the heat.”

            “The doctor would like to see you tomorrow night to run blood tests,” Saroyah says, coming back into the camera’s view. “In the meantime, she wants you to rest as much as possible, preferably in bed, so to bed with you. Up. Up.”

            His wife casts the Britlingen an evil eye. “She wants me to get up so I can lay down again,” she complains to Vincent.

            “Hey, don’t bring logic into it. But you should do as she says. If Eric comes home to find you sacked out on the couch, he’s going to ask questions.”

            She grumbles as she pushes herself into a sitting position, and he is pleased to see Vincent helping her stand up.

            “He’s going to ask questions anyway,” she groans.

            She wobbles on her feet and closes her eyes. It’s obvious that she is still dizzy and feeling poorly. Vincent takes her by one elbow while Saroyah takes the other, flanking her and giving her support.

            “We will think of something to tell him,” Vincent promises.

            “No. I’ll tell him what happened. He’ll find out eventually anyway,” Sookie counters, leaning heavily on the Britlingen.

            “The truth is always best,” Saroyah agrees.

            “Yeah,” his wife breathes as they begin to walk out of the camera’s view.

            “Do you want me to play for you?” he hears Vincent ask.

            “That would be lovely,” his wife replies, her voice tired.

            “I’ll get my violin after you’re settled in bed.”

            “Thanks.”

            He’s seen enough so he clicks the video window closed and begins to pack up. He isn’t done with his paperwork, and he hasn’t touched the year-end reports, but he doesn’t give a fuck. His wife obviously has had an exhausting and painful night, and she needs him. Felipe’s damn tribute can wait.


	12. Chapter 12

Chapter Twelve

 

            She is glorious. Her body arches, the sweat rolls in droplets between her swelling breasts, the scent of her ecstasy is maddening. She sits astride him, riding him, the extra weight of her pregnancy putting that much more force behind each crash of her body down upon him. He snarls and grips her hips, pulling her onto his hardness as she grinds down. Her sounds of pleasure are matched by his own as he strains to bring them both closer to the edge.

            _‘Eric, Eric, Eric, Eric…’_ she sends, her mind a swirling vortex of pleasure and need.

            “Agh! Sookie. Sookie!” he gasps.

            If he could sweat, he’d be pouring with it. As it is, he is struggling to keep his head about him to make sure she is satisfied. Her sex drive has been off the charts recently, and he is shocked to find himself having trouble keeping up with her. He takes it as a direct affront to his own sexual prowess so he tries that much harder to make her scream his name.

            Her burgeoning belly makes riding him the easiest position for her, although taking her from behind or while he is standing will do just as well. No matter what, he makes it work because fucking her is still the most incredible thing in the world for him, and he’ll take it regardless of what contortions she wants to bend him into.

            She lets out a keening wail, and he doesn’t give a shit if Saroyah can hear them having sex as he answers his wife’s cry with a growl of his own. The scent of her blood drives him wild, and he rises up, flipping her onto her back and curling over her so he can lick the blood from her bleeding gums while he continues to pound into her. Thank Thor his spine is so flexible as to allow him to arch that much. She mews and lifts her thighs, begging him to do her harder, faster. Her nails dig into his forearms as he crushes their mouths together, his tongue flicking furiously to get the blood as it leaks from around her teeth.

            He is in rapture. He can feel her building, and that’s a damn good thing because he’s about to come so hard he can feel it all the way down to his toes. She just needs a bit more from him as he deliberately grinds against her clit. Her answer is a suffering moan as she spreads her legs to drive him deeper.

            _‘More. More. More…’_ she begs.

            _‘Anything! I love you!’_ he replies, shoving his tongue into her mouth.

            He groans low and deep, pushes harder, and… and is rewarded by a sudden kick in his stomach.

_‘What the?’_

            The kick comes again, harder this time, and he realizes that one of his children is protesting the added pressure against Sookie’s womb. The realization knocks him right out of his headspace, and he loses his rhythm.

            _‘Eric, what’s wrong?’_ his wife asks him, her mindvoice desperate.

            _‘The little ones are restless,’_ he explains. There is a third kick and the sensation is very unsettling.

            _‘I know,’_ she pants, shifting to try to ease the pressure.

            He rubs the spot on her belly where he felt the kick. “Hey, settle down in there! Móðir and Faðir are busy!”

            “Oh, Eric, please! I’m so close!” his wife pleads, reminding him that she was right on the edge before he got distracted.

            He never could stand to hear her beg, so he switches them around again. This time he turns her onto her side and moves behind her, lifting her leg to slide back in. She grunts in appreciation and pushes against him, and he picks up where he left off, only this time he moves his hand down between her legs so he can rub her nub while he fucks her.

            The position works for a short time, but it doesn’t give her what she wants, so she takes it upon herself to roll until she is on her hands and knees, her upper body braced on her elbows. He obliges and kneels behind her, holding her hips firmly as he mounts with one push and gives her a good seeing to.

            It’s good. It’s soooo good. She’s hot and wet and tight, and she’s pushing back with each thrust, further impaling herself on him. She moans and cries and sobs as he rides her, and he echoes her sounds of pleasure with his own. He feels her building again and quickens his pace, using his hand to press against her clit so it gets rubbed from both sides. That has her howling in no time, and it’s everything he can do not to bite her shoulder as she comes hard and milks the orgasm right out of him.

            The afterglow finds her on her back with him pressed to her side. He resumes licking the blood from her gums as he slides his long fingers into her and brings her to another release. Her hand closes around his cock and pumps him in time with his fingers, but he doesn’t come so she satisfies him by taking him into her mouth. Not one to be accused of being stingy, he sixty-nines her and brings her to a third climax.

            He holds her and croons to her until she stops shuddering, and he thinks she might finally have had enough because she appears to be drifting off to sleep. This is a good thing because a) she really needs the rest and b) he needs to recuperate because he hasn’t been this well used since Inara killed him. She snuffles softly, nuzzling her cheek into the crook of his shoulder, and he pulls her closer, breathing through his teeth to make a low soothing noise. A few moments later, he feels her body go slack and her face ease in sleep, and he kisses her forehead tenderly.

            “Sleep, my lover,” he whispers, then strokes the swelling mound of her womb gently. “And you two. You’re getting to be regular little kickboxers in there.”

            He talks to them, mostly when Sookie is asleep, and he tells them all sorts of things. He thinks it isn’t fair that his wife should get all the alone time with the babies just because they are still inside her, so he takes the time when she is resting to converse with his unborn son and daughter. When he places his hand on her lower belly, he can feel them shifting closer, pressing back on the thing impinging on their watery world. It is an amazing feeling.

            Sookie is twenty-three weeks pregnant now. In another week, she will have passed the all-important 24th week. From that moment on, there is a 90% chance of survival if the babies are born prematurely. Not that he expects them to be born early. In fact, he is doing everything in his power to make sure they stay right where they are until they are good and ready to come out.

            He has already convinced Sookie to cut her working days down to two, and she spends less than six hours in the office when she does go in. She is getting better at relegating responsibility to her assistants, and she is learning the fine art of allowing her well-trained employees to do their jobs without a lot of interference from her.

            This is good. This is right because he must protect her, and the instinct to keep her safe and guarded is growing with every passing day. Sookie has joked that she will get him a spiked collar and put him on a chain outside their bedroom, but she isn’t that far from the truth. He is driven to patrol and constantly mark his territory, and he walks around his house every night scenting for danger, for strangers, for intruders coming onto his property. He rubs his scent on every bush, tree, window and doorframe just to make sure everyone with a nose knows who lives here.

 _“Beware. Beware. Beware. An extremely hypersensitive, overprotective vampire lives here, and he’ll rip out your guts and make you eat them before he even lets you get close,”_ reads the unspoken message he telegraphs on every fence post and even the mailbox.

            Not even the UPS man can come to the door after dark anymore. Brown is down before he can even ring the doorbell. The poor guy pissed himself, Sookie started screaming and even Vincent told him to “Just chill, Man. He’s just delivering the new stroller Sookie ordered on-line.”

            But they don’t understand. Not even he understands completely. He has all of these urges. He smells his wife, he smells his unborn children, and he just gets so… so edgy, so alert and tense. He’s ready for anything, all of the time. He knows that they are targets, and he must be hyper vigilant or something will happen. Someone will sneak through the defenses. Something will take his family from him, hurt them, kill them…

            He feels the surge of terror and rage. If he had a heartbeat it would be racing. He can’t lose them. He can’t live without them. Blood of his blood runs in her veins. Flesh of his flesh grows in her womb. He must protect them, must keep what is his safe.

            “Baby, relax. You’re giving me a headache,” his wife whispers tenderly, rubbing his arm to get his attention, and he realizes that his upset has woken her.

            “Forgive me. I didn’t mean to wake you,” he apologizes with a sheepish smile.

            She gives him a sleepy smile and rubs her belly. “You didn’t. Junior kicked me in the spleen again. I think it’s getting pretty crowded in there for them.”

            He chuckles and kisses the spot just above her navel, growling a little command to be quiet in Old Norse.

            “They’re going to be bilingual right out of the womb,” Sookie teases fondly.

            “Of course,” he agrees, his breath blowing cold over her taut skin, making gooseflesh break out over her abdomen.

            He strokes the swollen mound as he presses his tongue to the back of his front teeth and breathes out, making a soft whistling noise. He finds the higher pitched sounds get more of a reaction from his children, and sure enough he feels a rotating movement under his hand.

            “You should let Móðir sleep,” he coos to them. “She gives you food and shelter and protection inside her body. The least you can do for her is give her a bit of peace. If you are very good, and let Móðir rest, Faðir will tell you a story. What do you think of that?”

            “Maybe Móðir wants a story too,” his wife murmurs, but she is already half asleep.

            “All of my stories are for you, my lover,” he replies.

            “Mmmm,” she sighs, and he senses her slip away into dreamland.

            He smiles and waits a few minutes before whispering softly in a low voice. “Once upon a time there was a great king who lived in the Northlands. His name was Haloge, and he and his wife, Queen Glod, had two daughters named Eisa and Eimyrja, and these maids were the fairest in the land…”

            By the time he is finished telling them the tale of the boy named Viking who fought the terrible Harek the Ironhead for the lovely Hunvor’s hand in marriage, and who then went on to win many battles and do many great things, it is close to ten o’clock and his wife is deeply asleep.

            His children have been quiet during the telling of the story, and he entertains a small fantasy that they had been listening to him. He sings to them and kisses the spot on Sookie’s stomach that marks where he thinks they are.

            “And now Faðir must go to work and earn money because little ones are expensive. Yes, I am speaking to you, Dear Ones. Now you be good and let Móðir sleep. Agreed?”

            He knows they won’t answer him, but he smiles anyway and tucks his beloved in, making sure her feet are covered, before he gets out of bed. He showers, not really wanting to wash the scent of Sookie and sex off of his skin, but the pregnant-smell in her scent has been known to almost incite a riot if it is too strong on him. He will be going to Fangtasia as he told the Little Ones, but not until later.

            He passes Saroyah on his way out and she gives him a somber nod. She knows her charge is sleeping just from his look, and she will keep a sharp ear out and be on guard until he returns. Vincent is in the living room playing video games and the boy waves to him as he passes.

            Once he is in the car, he calls Pam, and she answers on the second ring.

            “Yes, Master?”

            “Cover for me. I’ll be there by midnight,” he tells her.

            “Yes, Master. What do I say if Sookie calls looking for you?”

            “Tell her I’m on a call and I’ll call her back.”

            “As you wish.”

            He hangs up and heads away from Shreveport to their Ruston nest. They haven’t been here in weeks because it is still their secret place, but he has been going there for the past several nights when he is supposed to be working in order to work on a surprise for Sookie and the children.

            When he arrives at the small house it seems so quaint and old fashioned now, but his mate still loves it. He imagines his children playing among the tall trees while Sookie watches from the little porch. He smiles as he parks the car in the drive and opens the garage.

            It’s been converted into an impromptu woodshop, although no one has seen a woodshop like this one in centuries. An archeologist or cultural anthropologist would have an orgasm if he were to stumble upon this little recreated time capsule, but for him this was the norm. This was the Way of Things.

            On the sawhorses is an expertly crafted miniature, but he has made it in the same way the large ones were created, from naturally curved branches and carefully cleaved planks of wood. The little Longship cradle is almost complete.

            Normally the cradle would be a present to the woman from her father, the baby’s grandfather because presumably the baby’s father would be off making war. But he’s old enough to be his children’s great-great-great-great-great-great (oh you get the idea)-grandfather, so he felt justified in making the cradle himself. Besides, no one alive would know how to make a Viking Longship the right way, anyway.

            He runs his hand over the smooth wood, smiling at his handiwork. He’s made it larger than a vagga would normally be, but this one is meant to cradle two. He and his wife have discussed this. There is research that proves most twins do better if kept together in cradles and cribs. Apparently having spent nine months swimming together in Mother’s womb makes them miss each other after they are born if they are separated.

            His people knew this already and always kept twins together. Usually one twin was weaker than the other and would wither if not with his more robust sibling. Sometimes the weaker twin would be laid out at the crossroads for someone else to adopt, but then it was noticed that the stronger twin weakened in the absence of his brother.

            His children will be strong and healthy. He is seeing to that, and he has been blessed by the Goddesses, but they will sleep together in one crib and in this cradle until they are big enough to warrant their own places so they will not miss each other. He pats the hull as if it is a living thing (because it is), and picks up the planer to smooth the rough edges from the interior of the boat.

            It will be done soon, but he has worked many nights crafting the cradle. He made the keel from a single piece of wood. The hull has been laid along the bowed ribs, the planks slightly overlapping as was the technique, and he has sealed the cracks with tarred wool. The ships were waterproof by design and needed no other sealing. The planks were cleaved along the grain instead of sawn so as to preserve the natural bent and quality of the wood, and he has sanded and planed each piece so it is completely smooth. The last thing he will do is carve the dragon’s head for the stempost, then he will add the runners that will make the cradle rock.

            In his time, it would take many men and many oak trees to make a Longship, but this one is his and his alone. He takes great pride in making this thing for his little ones. The cradle will be where they can sleep safely when they are not with him and Sookie, and it must be perfect.

            He sings an old song of crafting while he works, and the run of the wood beneath his hands brings back the scent of the salt water and the nip of the cold wind coming off the fjords. He smells the odors of wood fires and cooking meat. He hears the chattering of the women as they sew the sails, and the cries of the gulls overhead. There is the clank of metal and the crunch of boots on the rocky shores. His father barks orders to the craftsmen to make the drakkar the best they have ever forged. He hears his brothers joking about the drunken stupor that they drank themselves into after the last successful raid. Etta is giggling with her cousin as she digs for clams in the shallows; the dogs followed behind hoping to snag some scraps.

            He touches the wood and he is human again. It is almost enough to bring him to tears.

            He works until eleven, then puts the tools away and secures the cradle for another night. Two more nights and it should be done. Now that he is almost certain his babies will live, he feels the urgency to get the vagga ready because all too soon there will be a need for it. He washes his hands and makes sure there is no sawdust on his clothing before he heads out to Fangtasia. The garage door closes on his precious gift, and he smiles as he drives down the lane towards the main road.

 

88888888

 

            When she wakes the room is dark, but she knows she is not alone. She is never alone these days because the babies growing inside her are constant companions. She hasn’t told Eric that she can sense them yet, but she started feeling the hum of their brains about two days ago. Each signature is unique, but there are no thoughts yet, only muddled, hazy feelings emitting at odd intervals. It’s like the brains are plugged in but they aren’t quite up to full speed yet. She both eagerly awaits and dreads the day she will hear their thoughts.

            _‘But it might make life easier for me when they’re teenagers,’_ she muses.

            The signals from the babies tell her that they are both sleeping, which is fine by her because she’s not ready to get out of bed. Something did wake her, however, so she turns her attention towards figuring out what it is. She turns her head and spies a figure sitting in the chair near the bed.

            Being that the figure is glowing with its own inner light, she recognizes who it is immediately, almost too quickly for her to be afraid.

            “Niall,” she whispers, struggling to sit up. It’s getting harder to move around, and she hasn’t even really begun to gain serious weight. The third trimester is when she’ll really pack on the pounds, and she’ll probably grow at least twice as big as she is now.

_‘So looking forward to that…’_

            “Blood of my blood,” Niall greets, rising to his feet.

            He comes to her and puts a hand on her back as he helps her sit up. His touch is calming and soothing, and she sighs. Her relief doesn’t last long because the bedroom door explodes inward, shattering into a bazillion pieces, as both Vincent and Saroyah come barreling in.

            Vincent’s hands are ablaze with black fire and Saroyah is wielding a sword that would make Eric drool. Unfortunately, her very expensive bodyguard doesn’t look like she’s in the mood to share her toys. In fact she looks in the mood to skewer her great-grandfather first and ask questions later, but before either of her protectors can get in a blow, Niall waves his hand and they both hit an invisible barrier.

            “A Britlingen. Impressive,” her great-grandfather comments. “The vampire is taking no chances.”

            Saroyah’s face turns color, and Sookie shivers at the raw rage in the woman’s eyes. She watches in alarm as the Britlingen takes the point of the sword, pierces her own hand with it to coat the tip with blood, then rams the tip into Niall’s invisible shield. The force field appears to vibrate, then it gives and the sword slides through.

            A glance to her fairy great-grandfather shows that he does not appear concerned by this turn of events, and he remains perfectly calm as both Vincent and Saroyah descend upon him. She cannot share his sentiment, nor can she imitate his unruffled demeanor.

            “Stop! He’s my great-grandfather! STOP!!”

            The two come to a skidding halt, Saroyah’s blade just inches from Niall’s throat, and Sookie notices that the blade is not iron. It is unlikely that the sword could have done any damage to her fairy great-grandfather even if she hadn’t been able to keep her protector from impaling him.

            “You know this fairy?” the Britlingen demands of her.

            “I do. He’s family.”

            Saroyah sneers, all of her teeth bared in a gruesome grin, but she does sheath the blade with a sharp movement. “He did not come through the normal way. We heard his voice on the monitor and came running.”

            The warrior midwife indicates the little listening device on the dresser. Eric had brought it home three weeks ago to make it such that she could sleep in peace without either of her bodyguards hovering over her.

            “So I gather. Niall, you should have come to the front door,” she chides gently. “As you can see, my protectors are… on edge.”

            “As well they should be given whom they must keep safe,” Niall replies with a smile as he bows to Vincent and Saroyah. “Forgive me for not following proper protocols. I am Niall Brigant. As my great-granddaughter has told you, I am her great-grandfather.”

            “Geeze, man. Give us a heart attack will ya?” Vincent complains, then he eyes the shattered door. “Eric is gonna be so pissed off.”

            “I will take full responsibility for any damages,” her great-grandfather assures them.

            “The doorframe is splintered. It will need extensive repair,” Saroyah says dispassionately.

            “What did you do? Kick it in?” Sookie asks, taking in the damage.

            “Yes,” the Britlingen replies simply.

            “Oh.”

            “I thought there was an intruder. I feared your life was in danger. I cared not for a door.”

            “I get that. It’s nice to know that if I’m under attack, you won’t let a helpless piece of wood stand in your way.”

            “If there is nothing else, I will return to the room with the video screen,” Saroyah says stiffly.

            “Thank you, Saroyah, for coming to my rescue so fast. You too, Vincent.”

            “Sure. Anytime,” the young Fire Demon says with a cocky smile.

            She and Niall watch as they both leave. Since the door is in pieces on the floor of her bedroom (several of which could easily be fatal to a vampire), there is no way to give them some privacy, but she has bigger concerns right now as she realizes what Niall’s presence means. Last week, Claudine was let in on the secret of who is the father of her children, and it is obvious that her promise to keep the secret has been broken.

            “Did Claudine tell you?” she asks with resignation.

            “You must forgive your cousin,” Niall replies gently.

            He waves a hand, and she watches as the shattered door magically fixes itself and reattaches itself to the repaired doorframe.

            “I had suspected that my granddaughter was hiding something from me over the past few weeks. She was… secretive whenever she visited Faery, and her answers when I questioned her regarding you were vague and incomplete, so I compelled her to answer me.”

            She feels her heart plummet into her stomach, and she rubs her abdomen. Her upset has awakened the lives inside her, and also alerted her vampire husband who is right now no doubt racing through the Shreveport streets at illegal speeds (if he bothered to use the car at all.)

            “Did she… tell you everything?” she questions, but she already knows the answer.

            “I know that the vampire is the father of your child.”

            “I… see.”

            Outwardly she is calm, inwardly, however, she is scrambling. If the fairies know that male vampires can father children…

            “My child,” Niall tells her tenderly, kissing her forehead, and she immediately relaxes, feeling his soothing magic comfort her. “You have nothing to fear from me. I am overjoyed that you are able to have the family you so desperately wanted, and I am impressed by the lengths the vampire went to in order to fulfill your wish.”

            She quivers and puts her hands on her womb. The babies within her gravitate towards her palms, and she can feel them pressing back against her touch.

            “I’m carrying twins.”

            “I know.”

            “A boy and a girl.”

            “Then you are doubly blessed.”

            A tear rolls down her cheek. “They’re going to live. I’m nearly twenty-four weeks. We’re almost guaranteed a live birth after that.”

            Her great-grandfather touches her belly, and she can feel the babies reacting to the fairy’s touch.

            “They will be beautiful and perfect just like their mother.”

            The comment makes her laugh a little, and Niall pulls back enough to smile at her.

            “My child, it grieves me to think that you felt you could not trust me with this wonderful news.”

            “Eric was afraid of how the fey would react once they found out he was the father. There are enough people out there who want me dead as it is just for being married to a vamp,” she admits.

            “It is an unfortunate, yet valid truth that you are a target.”

            “Yes. So Eric thought that it was best if we kept the details a secret. We weren’t even going to tell Claudine, but Saroyah kind of let it slip.”

            “It would not have mattered. The moment the infants were born, we would have known the vampire was the father,” Niall says kindly.

            “Yes, but by then they would have already been born alive.”

            “They are much safer inside of you, my dear.”

            She sighs. She supposes that’s true. At least while she is still pregnant, they are all in one place. She opens her mouth to agree with him when she feels such a wave of rage that it nearly bowls her over. Then she hears an animalistic snarl as the bedroom door shatters inward again, only this time the figure coming in bears a remarkable resemblance to her husband. Being that the creature that enters is wild and full of sharp, flashing teeth, however, she cannot truly be sure that it is Eric, and not some horrible monster that wears his face.

            She has seen Eric in a rage before. She has even seen him fight and been awed by his primal beauty, but there is nothing of the man she loves reflected in the blazing blue eyes or the wide mouth, dripping with saliva as the fangs extend to their full length. Few people ever see a vampire in total battle-mode so many don’t know that their fangs can extend an additional half-inch to an inch when they’re really, **_really_** pissed off.

            The creature sees her great-grandfather and roars loud enough to shake the walls, then it is a blur of claws and fangs as it launches itself at Niall. She screams.

            Niall is ready for the attack, probably because he is well used to being under siege from his own people. He deflects Eric’s swiping hands with a sweep of his arm and sends her mate crashing into the bedroom wall. She screams again and foolishly puts herself between the two.

            “Stop it! Stop it! Stop it!” she cries.

            Vincent and Saroyah come running in. Saroyah takes her in hand and gets her out of harm’s way as Vincent takes her place between the fairy and the vampire, a sword in one hand and a fireball in the other. This sword is iron so Niall gives it a respectable berth, and Eric – even in his berserker state – knows vampires are highly flammable. Saroyah pulls out two long knives from sheaths on both thighs and stands in front of her.

            “Who wants to play?” the Britlingen challenges angrily.

            “Bring it on,” Vincent adds, increasing the size of the flaming ball in his palm.

            Niall puts up his hands in a gesture of peace. “I wish no trouble.”

            “You come into my house unannounced. You accost my wife,” Eric accuses, stepping forward even as he eyes the fire in Vincent’s hand warily.

            Even though his voice is rough and slightly slurred because of the extended length of his fangs, she is heartily glad to hear it because he at least sounds sane even if he still looks like a raging maniac.

            “He says he is her family,” Saroyah says.

            “He is unfortunately. Too bad that he possesses none of his great-granddaughter’s manners,” her husband seethes in a clearer voice. He’s calming down some, and his fangs are retracting.

            That is good because she is suddenly seized with horrible pains in her lower abdomen, and she gasps with the shock of it.

            “Ah!” she blurts and backs up to hit the bed. Eric is by her side almost too fast for her to see, his face changing from anger to fear.

_‘Lover?! What is wrong?’_

            She grabs her abdomen, tears brimming her eyes from the pain. “It feels… it feels like I’m going into labor!” _‘No! No! It’s too soon!’_

            Saroyah snorts and sheaths the knives. “You’re not in labor. You’re having a stress reaction, and the babies are transmitting their fear, resulting in false labor,” her midwife scolds, coming over to put a hand on her shoulder. “You need to breathe and get yourself under control.”

            Eric grabs her hands and practically forces calm into her through the bond. She digs her nails into his skin, concentrating on assimilating the emotions he is sending her. She gulps in air like a man dying of thirst, and slowly the pain fades as she relaxes.

            “Oh,” she gasps. “Oh.”

_‘Better?’_

            She nods. “Yeah. Yeah, it’s better.”

            Saroyah nods in approval and steps back. She notices that the Britlingen and Vincent have set up defensive positions on either side of her and Eric, and they appear ready for just about anything. Vincent hasn’t put his gloves back on so that tells her he’s prepared to throw a fireball at a moment’s notice, and she wonders how flammable fairies are.

            Eric releases her hands and begins stroking her abdomen, whispering in Old Norse to the children inside her. She does not know what he is saying (one would think that in ten years she would have picked up some words here and there, but he so rarely speaks it that she really has had no opportunity to learn), but it seems to be working because she feels the careening flashes of emotion coming from the little lives even out.

            It takes what seems like an eternity, but she finally calms down completely and feels somewhat normal again – or as normal as she passes for these days. Unfortunately, as soon as she is relaxed, her mate’s anger slams into her just before he closes off the bond to shield her from his fury. She reaches out to ineffectually stop him as he rounds on her great-grandfather, snarling and flashing his fangs again.

            “Look what you did!” her mate accuses.

            “Look what **_he_** did?” she argues. “ ** _You’re_** the one who busted down the door and attacked my great-grandfather!”

            “I was reacting to your fear!” he counters, indignant.

            She sputters for a moment because she knows it’s true, and tries to think of a decent come-back. As it turns out, she doesn’t need to because Saroyah steps in.

            “She has been upset enough. If you cannot be calm and let her rest, I will have to ask you to leave,” her bodyguard warns.

            “ ** _Leave?!_** I’m her fucking mate!” her husband growls.

            “Yes, and you hired me to protect your wife and keep her safe. You getting her all upset is complicating my mission.”

            “Now see here you…” Eric begins, but she reaches over to cut him off.

            “Saroyah’s right,” she says, putting a hand on his shoulder. “I need to rest, and I’ve been upset enough tonight as it is.”

            Eric sneers again. “Yes, because **_he_** came into your room unannounced!”

            She reaches into herself for calm and tries to keep her voice neutral and understanding. “He’s already apologized to me, and I’ve forgiven him. He knows that it wasn’t the best thing for him to do. But Eric you know how I feel about my family, and I so rarely see Niall. I want to visit with him for a while.”

            Eric looks at her, and she gives him her wide-eyed, soulful look that she knows always works on him until he sighs, rolls his eyes and gives over.

            “Oh, alright,” he concedes, but she knows he’d be happier if she’d told him to toss her great-grandfather out on his ear.

            He turns and sits next to her on the bed, his arms crossed and one leg resting across his knee. “Very well, fairy. You may visit.”

            She wants to smack him because she’s had just about enough of his crap, but she can tell by his posture, and the emotions coming across the bond, that he is still very much on edge. He’s given as much as he’s going to give, and if she tries for more, she’ll only push him into an extreme reaction.

            _‘Thank you,’_ she sends, adding a little mental caress to soothe his ruffled nerves.

_‘Pfft.’_

            She smiles at the mental brush off, and does more mental stroking.

_‘You are a very considerate and understanding mate.’_

_‘You have no idea. Pam was certain I was going to start another Fairy War.’_

_‘Well, I am very glad that you did not.’_

_‘Hrumph. Night’s not over yet.’_

            “As I have said, I wished to visit with my great-granddaughter, especially since I recently learned a key detail regarding her delicate condition,” Niall says.

            She sees Eric’s brow furrow, and she doesn’t need to probe the bond to know he has figured out what the “key detail” is. She feels a tumult of emotions coming through their connection, but fear and anger are the two strongest, and she knows the two are warring with each other. Of all the things that worried Eric, Niall finding out the truth behind her pregnancy was the biggest, and there is no telling how he is going to react to this now.

            She tries to calm him as best she can so that he will not do anything rash. She can just tell that he is formulating plans, and plans upon plans, just in case the first plan falls through. He is nothing if not a planner, and she’s never met anyone who can out-plan Eric, but she knows him well enough to know that he will do one of two things when threatened: fight or run. If he fights, he will lay waste to anything and everything in his path. If he runs… no one will find them, ever. He’ll pull up every root they have laid down over the past ten years and vanish with her into the night. Nobody would ever hear from them ever again.

            Neither option will serve them in this instance. Niall has assured her that she has nothing to fear, and she believes him. In the ten years she has known her great-grandfather, he has never lied to her or led her into danger, so she trusts his word now. She knows Eric mistrusts all fairies, and she knows it is with good reason, but Niall is family, and few people understand the importance of family the way Southerners do.

            _‘It’s okay, Eric. Niall’s promised that we aren’t in any danger,’_ she assures him.

            She hears his mental snort. _‘He cannot make those kinds of promises for all of his ilk. He can only pledge his protection, and he is not infallible.’_

            She sets her jaw and gives him her stubborn face. He recognizes it, and she sees him getting used to the idea that he isn’t going to win this one. It’s rare for him to capitulate twice in one night, but it is an unusual night, and she knows he is still spooked by the pain she experienced earlier.

 _‘I am not going to up and move three months before our babies are born, and I am not going to raise our children in a strange place surrounded by people I don’t know,’_ she tells him firmly.

_‘And if staying here puts you and the children in danger?’_

_‘If we’re going to be in danger, we will be in danger no matter where we are,’_ she counters. _‘And if that’s the case, I’d rather have to defend myself and the children on familiar turf,_ _surrounded by people I know I can depend on.’_

            Eric doesn’t look convinced, but she can feel him calming down as his more rational brain kicks in. She doubts that he is finished planning for just about every contingency, but at least he’s not in reactive mode anymore.

            Saroyah and Vincent calm down too, and come out of their defensive postures. It is clear that the storm has passed for now, and thankfully the only casualty is the door – again. The two give her and Eric a questioning look, and Eric nods. They each give her husband a little bow and exit, leaving them alone with her fairy great-grandfather.

            “I understand your concerns, vampire, and I assure you that I will keep this secret. I will continue to guard my great-granddaughter with all the resources at my disposal,” Niall promises, looking at Eric.

            “What do you intend to do if the word gets out, and there is a revolt against you or Sookie?” Eric replies.

            “I am a prince. There are only two others higher ranked than me, and they never leave Faery,” Niall explains.

            “Hmmph. I will hold you to that, Brigant. I am extremely protective of my wife.”

            “So I have witnessed, but that is to be commended. You and I both know how trouble seems to follow her.”

            The two men share a look of mutual understanding as they look at her, and she gets her dander up at their silent accusations.

            “Hey!” she snorts, offended. “Trouble does not follow me. I usually end up in trouble when I’m trying to get one of **_you_** out of trouble!”

            Eric raises an eyebrow and smirks at her. “Did you ever think that is because you should be wise enough to allow us to handle things, instead of haring off willy-nilly into danger with little or no thought to the risks or your own personal safety?”

            “You watch it, Buster. I’ve saved your ass a number of times, and don’t you forget it,” she complains, pointing a finger at him for good measure.

            He grins. “How can I forget? You are so very fond of my ass.”

            If Niall hadn’t been there she would have smacked him just for sitting there looking so smug and perfect while she is fat and retaining fluids. Instead she opts for pulling the poor, uncomfortable, pregnant lady routine on him.

            “I won’t be able to do any ass-saving anytime soon,” she says, giving him a wide-eyed look as she indicates her current condition.

            “No, I think not,” he agrees, but he doesn’t seem the least bit upset about it.

            “It’s your fault if I can’t save you then.”

            He gives her a tender smile. “Yes, I claim full responsibility for your current condition, even if you did not come to be that way under the usual circumstances.”

            “Hmmph. Not for your lack of trying,” she comments dryly.

            Eric waggles his eyebrows and puts his arm around her. The position looks familiar and loving, but she knows it is also defensive. It will only take him an instant to put her behind him if he needs to, and she knows it. It bothers her because it means that Eric is still not one-hundred percent at ease with Niall, and she does not want him to get overbearing if her great-grandfather wants to continue visiting with her.

            “Yes, I am very interested in learning more about how this was accomplished,” Niall says.

            She blinks at her fairy great-grandfather in confusion. “Didn’t Claudine tell you?”

            “She told me some, but she did not have answers to some of my more technical questions.”

            She feels Eric tensing up, and she doesn’t like it. She may have to send him out on an errand to get her something just to get rid of him so she can talk to Niall.

            “What do you want to know?” her mate asks coolly.

            “Give me more specifics regarding the procedure.”

            “There isn’t much to tell. I went to the clinic in Boulder, they cut into my balls to remove some tissue from inside my testicles, then they looked for mature sperm that were preserved when I was turned. Once they found it, they sucked the genetic material out and put it into viable human sperm, and used it to fertilize Sookie’s harvested eggs,” Eric explains.

            “So they are what is commonly known as Test Tube babies?” Niall questions.

            She nods. “Yes, exactly.”

            “Although I don’t know why they use that term. To the best of my knowledge no test tubes were ever used in the process,” Eric notes wryly.

            She rolls her eyes. “That’s just a figure of speech.”

            “Unless test tubes were used sometime when we weren’t there,” he points-out.

            “Maybe,” she agrees.

            “Claudine told me that you lost some babies.”

            She touches her womb instinctively and looks away, leaning into Eric’s arm. He tightens it and kisses her hair gently.

            “Yes. I lost four.”

            Niall gives her an understanding look. “I wish you had called out to me. There is a chance I could have prevented the loss.”

            She shook her head. “We didn’t want to tell anyone until we knew I was pregnant for sure.”

            “Understandable, but there were things I could have done to help you, perhaps. As it is now, even with you so far along, I can do some things that will ensure a safe and healthy delivery.”

            She gulps and swallows, feeling guilty at the slight rebuke, but Eric is unrepentant.

            “We thank you very much,” he states formally.

            Niall bows. “It will be my pleasure.”

            Her great-grandfather steps forward, and she has an idea as to what he is going to do, but she is not ready for how tense Eric becomes when Niall lays his hands on her swollen stomach. This touch is different from the light caress he had given her earlier, and she feels the magic flowing through the fairy’s hands. She jolts a bit, shivering.

            _‘Are you alright?’_ her mate asks her, concerned.

_‘Yes, I’m fine. It just feels weird.’_

            The mental signatures from the growing lives inside her flare and swirl from the touch, and she struggles to stay calm and send them calming thoughts. She tries to do the same with Eric, but the longer Niall touches her, the more on-edge her husband becomes. She is going to have to get rid of him if she wants her great-grandfather to stay.

            Niall smiles at her as he pulls back. “There. They took it very well. I foresee an easy and safe delivery.”

            She rubs the spots where the fairy touched her and smiles wistfully. “Thank you.”

            “You are most welcome, Child. I will do everything I can for you.”

            She nods, then turns to her husband. He’s just on the cusp of tolerance, and Niall’s presence is getting to him. She needs to send him out so he can calm down and get a grip.

            “Eric, honey, do you think you could make me a cup of tea?”

            He looks at her, his nostrils flaring because he is reluctant to leave her side, and cocks his head slightly. “What would you like, and I’ll have Vincent make it?”

            “Oh no, Vincent never gets it right,” she says with some truthfulness. The kid really can’t cook. It’s amazing because Maria is an outstanding cook. Too bad her son hasn’t picked up any pointers.

            Eric frowns because he’s onto her _. ‘I don’t want to leave you alone with him.’_

 _‘You’ll just be down the hall,’_ she assures him.

 _‘He could whisk you away to Faery in an instant if he so chooses,’_ he informs her _._

_‘Trust me, I’ll be perfectly safe.’_

            He doesn’t look convinced, but she smiles anyway. _‘Only you know how to make it the way I like it.’_

_‘What about the Britlingen?’_

_‘She gets nervous if the drink is too hot.’_

            He gives her a look but nods. _‘Very well, I will go make you a cup of tea, but you will tell me everything he says to you.’_

_‘I won’t need to. I’ll just transmit it through the bond.’_

_‘Yes, handy thing, that,_ ’ he agrees.

 _‘See? I won’t even have to say a word, and you’ll know if I need help so there really is no reason for you to worry,’_ she cajoles.

            She feels him ponder this for a moment before he grudgingly agrees. _‘All right. I’ll be right back.’_

            She gives him a smile as he slides off the bed, and he gives her a look that says he knows he’s being handled but that he is humoring her. She watches him as he exits through the broken bedroom doorway, and encourages him when he glances back at her.

            _‘I’ll be fine. Go on,’_ she insists.

            She feels his mixed feelings as he eyes Niall suspiciously, but she presses on the bond a little bit until he shakes his head, mutters something in Old Norse, then slips out into the darkened hall.

            Once he is gone, she turns to Niall and gives him a conspiratorial wink. Her great-grandfather smiles and winks back.

            “Well played, Child,” he compliments as he magically repairs the broken door again.

            “I’ve had lots of practice,” she answers seriously.

            Who says you can’t manipulate a vampire?


	13. Chapter 13

Chapter Thirteen

 

            His children are telepathic in the womb. At first all he senses from them are brief pulses of emotion with no concrete thoughts behind them, and he thinks he is imagining things until his mate confirms that she is sensing their unborn twins as well. At 28-weeks, Sookie has only three short months left in her pregnancy, but the hardest part is yet to come.

            She is really feeling her pregnancy now: gaining weight, feeling the babies growing inside her, urinating frequently as the little ones put pressure on her bladder. She is moody and miserable on a regular basis because it is Spring and the temperatures in Louisiana are rising. It is only going to get worse because she will be heavily pregnant in July – the middle of the Southern Summer. He does everything he can to alleviate her discomfort, but there is very little he can actually do.

            The worst is the constant backache and the Braxton Hicks contractions she experiences on a regular basis. They aren’t horribly painful, but they feel like bad cramps – or so she tells him. Having no experience with menstrual cramps, he has no point of reference, and he declined her offer to knee him in the balls to give him an idea as to what she was suffering. His balls are uncomfortably full these days because the glorious overactive sex drive his wife had been enjoying has been replaced with tearful tirades of how she is too fat and too ugly to make love with him. She screams about stretch marks and swollen ankles, and sobs that he will no longer love her because she is so hideous.

            She has no idea how beautiful she is to him, her swelling womb full of his children, and unfortunately, her pregnancy is screwing with the bond. There is too much coming across it, and they have found it necessary to close it off somewhat so they will not overwhelm each other. He hates it because he feels cut off from her, and that drives the animal part of his brain crazy.

            His territorial mate guarding has gotten exponentially worse to the point where he barely lets her out of his sight. She no longer works at _Stackhouse’s_ , and he is rarely at _Fangtasia_ for more than a couple of hours a night. It is a testament to his child that his businesses are not suffering from his preoccupation, and Pam is blossoming under the chance to prove her competency. He may very well give her more responsibility in the running of things from now on since she has done so well. She is as meticulous and conscientious a manager as he is, and she takes on all but his Sheriff responsibilities.

            The vampires in his Area are also helping by keeping the drama to a minimum, thus relieving him of much of his night-to-night Sheriff duties. There was one small incident where some transplants from Nevada and Arkansas tried to stage a minor coup while he was distracted with Sookie, but his loyal subjects tipped him off and a massive slaughter worthy of a true Viking berserker raid ensued. Heads rolled, blood poured in the streets, and he displayed the “trophies” of his kills in his office as a reminder of what happened to those who crossed him.

            Eric Northman might be a doting husband and soon-to-be father, but he is still a ruthless, bloodthirsty killer who will rip out your spleen and feed it to you if you go against him. You have been warned. Assholes.

            No one has been stupid enough to plot against him again, which is good because they have bigger things to worry about now anyway. The Fellowship of the Sun has marked his mate for torment and damnation. A new portrait of her had been painted on _Gabriel’s_ façade, depicting her with fanged monsters eating their way out of her womb with copious amounts of blood and gore. His subjects had to literally hold him down so he didn’t torch the place. In the end, the American Vampire League sued the club’s owners for defamation, and _Gabriel’s_ was forced to paint over the ghastly picture.

            The mural, however, turned out to be the least of their worries. Now there are websites dedicated to promoting the harassment and threatening of his wife, and they receive death threats and gruesome packages on a daily basis. One particularly stubborn man keeps sending them bibles with the anti-vampire passages highlighted in yellow marker. There’s even a new Anti-Vampire version of the Bible available now with new “translations” of old passages that appear to mention the abomination of the undead specifically. It’s crap, of course. Anyone can re-decipher the scriptures to say whatever they want. Who reads Aramaic anymore anyway… well… who’s **_not_** a vampire that is. Funny how no one seems to remember that half the new translations archeologists and historians have on ancient writings come from generous vampires willing to read the dead languages for them.

            Someone even was twisted enough to send his wife a container with what looked and smelled liked aborted human fetuses. Sookie had screamed and screamed, and from that night on, all mail is held at the post office, picked up by either himself or a member of the S-Team, and it is carefully inspected before it is forwarded to his mate. Any and all threats and “gifts” are turned over to the police or burned, but not before he sniffs them carefully to catch a whiff of the perpetrator’s scent. He’s been able to identify at least two individuals who are repeat offenders, and if he ever smells them on the street, they are dead and not in a quick way. He will make them scream and beg a hundred times for every one time they have made his wife cry.

            He snuggles with his cranky wife, bathing her sweaty forehead with a cool cloth and humming to her softly. She is dozing, but her sleep is restless, her eyes darting to and fro under her closed lids. She is dreaming and the dreams are not pleasant. She is transmitting her distress to their unborn children, and the little ones are reacting to her upset. He can feel the thrumming of their infant brains recognizing the increased heartbeat and spasmodic movements of their mother, and senses their own confusion and worry. They are, in a word, fretting with her, and soon they will kick and squirm and cause more harm than good.

            “Shhhhh. Shhhhhh, little ones. Faðir is here. Faðir will keep Móðir safe. There is no need to fret.”

            They react to his voice, something that never ceases to amaze him, and move towards his hand pressing lightly on Sookie’s swollen belly. Soon he feels them pushing back, and he telegraphs calm and comfort to them though the bond he shares with his mate.

            “That’s it, dear ones. No need to be afraid. No need to wake Móðir. Let her sleep because she is so busy taking care of you. She is making sure you grow big and strong inside her so you will be ready to come out. She loves you very much. I love you very much. We will keep you safe.”

            He “hears” their minds calming, senses the shift in their thoughts. They have no higher brain functions, only amorphous images cloaked in the wet, warm, darkness that is their world, but he can distinguish between the two. They can hear him on both levels, and he smiles proudly. Already his children are extraordinary.

            He coos, humming and stroking Sookie’s taut skin, until everyone settles down. He sighs and rests his head on the pillow next to his mate’s, and watches Sookie as she sleeps.

_‘I love you, my lover. I love you.’_

            He hears her take a deep breath and feels all the tension leave her body. For all her complaining and unhappiness, he still has not lost his touch, and he hopes she will wake in a mood to satisfy him because it has been four days since they’ve had sex, and he’s really starting to get antsy. He wonders if maybe trying to have sex in the pool will help reduce some of her discomfort and make her more willing to join with him. If not, he’ll have to settle for his hand again or maybe her mouth if she is willing. It really all depends on how she feels when she gets up. He goes into downtime to wait for her to rise. With everything that is going on, he needs the rest as much as she does.

            His next moment of awareness comes from his mate screaming. It is after dawn and chaos is erupting all around him. Saroyah is yelling, Sookie is slapping him in the face, and he smells the scent of fire and burning wood.

            “Eric! ERIC!! Get up! Get up!” **_‘ERIC!! Getupgetupgetupgetup!!!’_**

            It’s Rhodes all over again, only this time it is not a vampire hotel that has been bombed, it is their house. As he had in Rhodes, he fights the daytime stupor and forces himself to rise. Instinctively, he uses the bond between them to draw strength, but soon realizes that he will drag an already exhausted Sookie down with him.

            _‘Leaf… leaf…’_ he manages to send and a moment later one of Eros’s magic mints is shoved under his tongue. It takes a few seconds to work, but soon he is alert and aware.

            “What is it? What is happening?” he demands.

            “Someone threw a Molotov cocktail through the front window,” Saroyah replies. “The drapes caught fire.”

            “How bad? And how did it get through the house’s shield?” he asks, grabbing a nearly hysterical Sookie. She is clinging to him, trying to drag him out of bed even though he is naked. She is in full flashback mode; her thoughts full of terror, dead bodies and twisted metal. Their unborn children are also in a panic.

            “Vincent is fireproof. He is battling the flames while we wait for the fire department to get here. And I don’t know how it got through the shield. I can only guess that they used magic. We should move to a secure location, but your wife is proving stubborn in that regard,” Saroyah answers angrily.

            He takes his wife by the shoulders and makes her look at him. For the first time in years, he forces his will on her and makes her calm down. “Go to the garage. Get in the car. Leave this place. Do it now,” he orders.

            “I won’t go without you!” his mate insists, her nails digging into his arms.

            “Damn you, woman. Don’t worry about me. I’ll be all right. You have to keep our babies safe. Now go! Obey me!”

            “Fuck you, Northman, you’re not the boss of me!” his mate snarls.

            Of all the days she could choose to be hardheaded, the day their house is on fire has to be the worst. He wants to threaten her, throw her over his shoulder and toss her in the car, but he does none of those things. Instead he leaps out of bed, grabbing the first clothes that his fingers touch (sweatpants, t-shirt, slippers) and throwing them on, then he picks up his wife and flies with her through the hallway. The flames haven’t reached the back of the house yet so the path to the garage is clear. He shoves Sookie into the passenger seat of the Ford and throws himself into the trunk as Saroyah gets behind the wheel. Yes, he has Elena’s ring, but he does not want his enemies to know he is immune to sunlight.

            He hears and feels the car peel out of the garage as Saroyah throws the car into reverse and slams on the gas. The Britlingen drives like she is qualifying for a NASCAR race, but he doesn’t care. His mind is reeling wondering how the explosive got through the shield and how their attackers got past the Were security guard, and he grits his descended fangs as he suspects there is a traitor in the Shreveport pack. Herveaux will have a lot of explaining to do when he gets his hands on the Packmaster.

            “Where am I headed?” Saroyah asks.

            _‘Do not tell her to go to our Ruston nest!’_ he warns. _‘If we are being followed, we will lead them right to our secret place!’_

 _‘Where then?’_ Sookie replies, her mind frantic.

            _‘Fangastia. It has no windows.’_

_‘No! It’s a death trap and they’ll expect us to go there!’_

_‘Your grandmother’s then. It has the Dragon’s Tears shield. Only an extremely powerful witch can breach that.’_

            “Go to Gran’s in Bon Temps,” he hears her tell the bodyguard, followed by Saroyah’s grunt of agreement.

            _‘Do you have a cell phone?’_ he asks.

            _‘Yeah.’_

_‘Call the Tiger and the Shifter. They need to know what happened.’_

_‘And Alcide. It’s his Weres that man the guard post.’_

            He sends his anger through the bond. _‘You let **me** deal with Packmaster Herveaux.’_

_‘You are not going to threaten my friends!’_

_‘The loyalty and trustworthiness of his pack are his responsibility!’_ he counters.

            _‘I know that, but he can’t control what each pack member does or does not do!’_

_‘Why not? I control all of the vampires in my Area. If one were to fail in their duty the way it appears Herveaux’s Weres have, I would kill the idiot myself.’_

            He hears her huff, but at least her fear is giving way to anger. He thinks this is infinitely better than her earlier terror, because she has always been exceptionally good at handling difficult situations. Her panic was probably fueled by hormones and her unborn babies’ upset, but even the little ones are calming down now, and he can sense his wife getting control over herself. This is good. This is the Sookie he knows.

            He listens to Sookie make the phone calls to Quinn and the Shifter, explaining what she can. He hears the anguish in her voice as she tells them the house is on fire, and she has no idea how bad it is or how much has been lost. As for himself, he cares not for the house. Everything in it is replaceable, and the things that are not are already in the car. Quinn and the Shifter agree to handle the damage control. The Tiger is going to _Stackhouse’s_ and _Fangtasia_ to make sure they are not under siege, and Sam will make calls to alert those close to them. It takes some of the pressure off of his wife. Good.

            Halfway to Bon Temps, Sookie receives a call from Vincent. The fire department has arrived and put out the fire. The damage to the living room and front foyer is extensive, but the house itself is all right, and the worst of it is smoke and water damage. This is good news. The boy tells them he will meet them at the Bon Temps house as soon as he can. Sookie thanks him for all of his efforts, and he knows their Shreveport home would be ashes were it not for the young Fire Demon’s quick thinking and actions.

            Vincent also tells her that the ones responsible got away. That is unfortunate, but if they left any trace of scent, he will find it and track the fools back to whatever rock they crawled out from underneath. There he will kill them and put the bodies where they will never be found. He hears his mate tell Vincent how grateful she is and how proud she knows his father will be, then she hangs up and he feels her calming down.

            _‘It is good that the house survived,’_ he says.

            _‘Yeah. I’m glad. Though I still don’t know how they got past the front gate or the shield.’_

_‘Give me your phone and I will call Packmaster Herveaux.’_

_‘Won’t he wonder why a vamp is calling him in daytime?’_

_‘Let him.’_

_‘How about I call him instead?’_

_‘Sookie…’_ he growls, but he knows it’s no use. He hears her pressing buttons on her phone and frowns. _‘Do you have the Were on **speed dial?** ’_

            _‘Of course. Why wouldn’t I?’_

_‘Oohh I don’t know, **because he used to be one of your suitors!** ’_

_‘Oh, you stop. You know Alcide and I were never intimate. He’s a good friend, that’s all.’_

            He grits his teeth and fumes, but takes small comfort in knowing that his mate’s sex drive has been reduced by her pregnancy. Even if Alcide was amorous, he doubts that Sookie would go to bed with him for anything other than sleep, and he listens, stewing in his own rage, as his mate calls the Were and tells him what happened. He hears the Packmaster’s replies and is gratified by the Were’s anger. Alcide will get to the bottom of what happened and how the attacker was able to get past the guards. The Packmaster had best get to the bottom of the mystery before sundown, otherwise he will find himself faced with a very pissed off vampire.

            The Britlingen drives very much the same way he does, which means they make the trip from Shreveport to Bon Temps in thirty minutes, and soon he feels the car leave the paved road for the gravel driveway. That isn’t all he feels as he senses a number of assailants lying in wait for them. He can hear their swirling, frenzied minds buzzing across the bond he shares with his mate, and he reaches for the bag of weapons he keeps in all of his vehicles. In a way, he is glad because it means he will not have to waste any time hunting them down.

            He pulls the weapons bag out of the spare tire well and retrieves the sword and two daggers. There are silver chains in the bag too, and the chains make his Hammer flare and glow, but he puts them back because they will be of little use against human enemies.

            _‘Eric! Eric, they’re waiting for us,’_ he hears his lover send.

            _‘I know. Tell Saroyah to gun it and get you through the shields. They can’t touch you once you are on the other side.’_

_‘Unless they can get through like they did in Shreveport. They have to have a witch with them...’_

_‘Any witch with them would have to be able to break the Dragon’s Tears and that is unlikely. A witch that powerful wouldn’t get involved in something like this.’_

_‘Unless he or she had a problem with me having a vampire’s baby.’_

            He doesn’t answer because he is preparing to do battle. Coming out of the car’s trunk to fight will reveal one of his secrets (two actually), and that means he can leave no survivors. He knows his mate will not be happy about that reality, but this is one of those times when her moral code does not apply. This is war, and he must kill to protect what is his. He feels Sookie’s understanding and despair. She knows what he is going to do. She hates it, but she has been with him long enough to know sometimes there is no other choice.

            _‘Do what you have to do,’_ she tells him, her mindvoice resigned.

_‘I will block the bond so you do not feel it.’_

            It is the only consolation he can give her.

            The Britlingen does as she is told and slams on the gas, speeding the car up well beyond what is safe for the gravel driveway, and he hears Sookie scream as the Ford heads into a collision with a parked pick-up truck blocking the way. He can see it in his mind’s eye as his mate realizes there is no way to avoid the crash. Her scream cuts off just before impact, and he is incoherent with rage.

            Fangs bared, he bursts out of the trunk as it hits the parked truck and comes out swinging. The trees block most of the sunlight, but he still feels Elena’s ring protecting him from what rays do make it through, and he sends another prayer to his patrons for their Gifts. He whirls, searching for his mate, trying to find her through the plume of smoke and flames as the Ford explodes. He spies Saroyah, singed but unharmed, wielding a gun and a short sword as she fights multiple assailants, but there is no sign of his mate.

            There are enemies everywhere, coming at him from all sides. This is a coordinated attack. The entire Fellowship army must have come out for this one ambush,

and he cannot find his wife. He cannot even feel her through the bond. He rises up, flying above the wreckage, trying to locate her, but a silver net is thrown over him. His Hammer flares, and he slices the net into pieces with his sword and hands. He roars.

            “SOOKIE!!” he screams. **_‘SOOKIE!!’_**

            There is no answer and he fears the worst. His grief is overwhelming. _‘No! No! Nonononononononononooooooooo!’_

            “Die Spawn of Satan and your Demon Loving Whore!” he hears someone shout.

            He turns and slices the man’s head off his neck in one swipe. The tears are streaming down his face as a black hole opens up in his soul, and he sheds all semblance of humanity. He becomes a Berserker Angel of Death laying waste to his enemies. If Satan could see him now, the Prince of Darkness himself would tremble in fear. He will leave no one alive, not even himself.

_‘Sookie… My love, I will, join you soon…’_

            _‘Oh for fuck’s sake, get a grip! She’s fine!’_ comes an exasperated mindvoice.            He knows the speaker far too well, and does not know if he should be worried or relieved.

            _‘I can’t feel her!’_ he cries as he skewers another idiot with a silver chain. He’s already been shot four times with silver bullets, but for some reason the assholes shooting him haven’t figured out that he is immune to it.

            ‘ _Of course you can’t feel her. Mia’s put up a Level 10 Reflective Shield.’_

 _‘A what?’_ he asks, but his momentary distraction earns him a stake in the thigh. The bullets are popping out of his wounds, but the blood loss is becoming a problem.

            Izzy appears beside him. She is weaponless, but he knows she is far from defenseless because he’s seen her fight. She waves her hand in a sweeping pattern, building the energy, then lashes out, sending a pressure wave that flattens a dozen of their attackers at once.

            _‘My, you’re popular today,’_ he hears her comment.

            _‘Really? I hadn’t noticed,’_ he answers, ripping the stake from his thigh and plunging it into his assailant’s eye. The man twitches in the spasms of death, and the scent of his blood is titillating. If he can’t have sex, he’ll take the rapture of violence.

            _‘What are you doing here?’_ he asks.

            _‘Sparky called us. We figured you might need some back-up. Good thing we did. We got here just before the big Boom.’_

_‘And my wife?’_

_‘I Jumped her out of the car right before it hit. She’s safe in the house. Mia is with her,’_ the woman answers, stomping one foot and making the earth roil to knock down several more enemies.

            ‘ _And I can’t feel her because?’_

_‘A Level 10 Reflective Shield blocks everything. Unless you have a key to get through, you won’t feel a thing. Right now, no one can even **see** the house.’_

_‘And I am guessing you have a key.’_

            He hears Izzy snort. _‘Of course.’_

 _‘We can leave no witnesses,’_ he warns.

He sees Izzy clench her jaw. _‘I know,’_ she replies grimly.

            There are many enemies left, and he is killing them left and right, but the blood loss is weakening him. He’s been shot and staked several times, and blood his clouding his vision from a slice across his face. He begins to despair that there are simply too many for them to fight off, but he takes comfort in knowing his wife and unborn children are safe within Maria’s shield. He is prepared to die to protect them, and he always knew that this was a possibility.

            _‘Oh quit with the melodrama!_ ’ Izzy scolds. _‘Get up against the wrecked cars! Get the Britlingen too!’_

            The still smoldering heap of metal marks the boundary of the shield. It is the line that cannot be crossed, and he finds himself there with Izzy and Saroyah on either side of him, facing the mob of zealots who are determined to kill him and his wife. He growls at them through bloody lips and eyes as they look at each other across an imaginary line.

            There is a brief moment of stillness as each side tries to decide what is next, and he can feel Izzy using the respite to do something with the energy in the earth around her.

            _‘Gimme a minute if you can,’_ she tells him.

            ‘ _What are you going to do?’_ he asks.

            _‘Just trust me. We need to get them all in a group not too far from us.’_

_‘I will try.’_

            “I will slaughter all of you and drain your families as well,” he threatens.

            Some of the attackers pause, but the leader, a grizzled old man with hate in his eyes, just laughs. “I think it will be the other way around Demon. Although I do wonder how you are awake in the daytime, and how sunlight does not seem to be burning you, nor does silver seem to affect you.”

            He snarls, his fangs fully out. “I am protected by the gods themselves,” he states.

            “More like by Satan, Devil Spawn!”

            _‘Almost ready. Gimme another few seconds,’_ Izzy tells him.

            “How did you get the explosive through the protections around my house?” he demands. “I will find the witch who did it and kill her. I’ll dump her body in the swamp with yours for the alligators and the worms to eat.”

            “We already killed the sinner. She confessed her heresy and repented. She gave us the charmed bottle as a final act of penance before we sent her to God,” the man replies.

            He growls and takes a step forward, making his attackers step up too. They are bunching into a group just as Izzy requested, and he senses her approval.

            “I want no part of your god,” Saroyah says, spitting on the ground. “What god would send men against a pregnant woman to kill her babies? Cowards.”

            “She carries the spawn of Satan himself!” the leader shrieked.

            With that statement, Eric sees into the man’s mind and knows that their secret is out. This is no mere zealot upset that a human woman was artificially inseminated in order to have the child her vampire lover cannot give her. No, these humans know **_he_** is the father of the children. Somehow, the truth has been revealed.

            He presses his will upon the man, trying to rip the thoughts out of his head, and sees a familiar doctor, beaten and broken, begging for mercy and death. The Fellowship kidnapped Dr. Kalas and tortured him until he told them the truth. His already dead blood runs cold.

            _‘We have to kill them! We have to kill them all!’_ he rages. “I will destroy you!”

            “We will send you back to hell with your demon whore!”

            He roars, but Izzy steps in front of him.

            **_‘Get back, you idiot!’_** she warns as she thrusts out her hands in front of her.

            A pulse of energy erupts from her palms, roiling and rolling, and it hits the group of men full force. There is a crack and a flash of light, and what feels like a shockwave powerful enough to knock down a couple of trees. A blast of wind blows his hair back, and he feels the wave surge and break. Instinctively, he throws his arm up to protect his face, but the backlash doesn’t harm him. When it is all over, all of their enemies are flat on their backs, eyes wide open and staring straight ahead.

            “Are they dead?” Saroyah asks, her voice awed.

            He shakes his head. “No.” There is no scent of death and their hearts are still beating, unfortunately.

            “They’re catatonic. I fried their neural networks. They’ll be out for hours,” Izzy explains as she sinks to the ground. She is exhausted and breathing heavily.

            “What do we do with them then?” the Britlingen questions.

            “We need to know what they know. I saw a glimpse into the leader’s mind. The Fellowship has kidnapped one of the doctors involved in Sookie’s insemination, and they tortured him until he told them I was the father of Sookie’s children,” he replies.

            “Do they still have him?” Izzy asks.

            “I don’t know,” he answers, surveying the stunned church members. Oh, he knows the Fellowship will disavow all knowledge of the attack and publicly denounce it, but there is no doubt in his mind as to who is responsible.

            Izzy rises on shaky feet and stumbles over to the leader. _‘I’ll find out what he knows,’_ she says and puts her hands on the man’s head. The bastard doesn’t even twitch as Izzy raids his mind.

            He’s hungry and weak from blood loss, but there is a wide selection of bloodbags to choose from so he picks one healthy-looking, young man and pulls him up. He sinks his fangs into the man’s jugular and drinks deep, letting the limp body hang from his hands like a ragdoll. The mind of his victim is completely blank, and he barely feels the man’s death before he drops the lifeless corpse to the ground and grabs another. He is in the middle of draining this one when he feels the bond open and his mate’s presence barrel into him. Maria must have taken down the shield.

            “Eric!” he hears her cry. **_‘Eric!’_**

            He releases his second victim – the man is dead anyway – and turns to face his wife. If she is upset with him for feeding, she does not show it as she throws herself into his arms and hugs him tight. He clutches her to him as much as he can without harming her or the little ones, and they merge in the bond.

 _‘Soworriedscaredthoughtyouweredeaddeadeadedeaddead.’_ Fearpainragerelieflovelovelovelovelove.

            Both cry tears of relief, and he licks hers away as she licks his. They are each making little noises that neither realize they are making as they reconnect with lips and hands. She is alive. She is safe. His world is as it should be again.

            He reaches out and touches his unborn children with his mind and finds them reaching back for him. Already they look to him and their mother for comfort and reassurance. He soothes and coos to them.

_‘There, there, my dear ones. I told you Faðir would keep you safe.’_

            After several moments of sweet reunion, Sookie steps back and surveys the battleground with wide eyes. She had prepared herself for the bodies and blood-soaked ground, but she is not ready for the sight of the catatonic survivors, if indeed they will be considered as such. He is all for draining as many as he needs to quench his thirst, then chopping the heads off the rest and disposing of all the bodies.

            “You can’t do that!” his mate gasps, reading his intentions. “They’re helpless!”

            He growls at her. “They would have had no qualms about killing you and our unborn children.”

            “Eric, you can’t slaughter defenseless humans.”

            “Watch me,” he snaps, clenching his fists. “They kidnapped Dr. Kalas and tortured him.”

            “They still have him,” Izzy announces, pulling away from the leader but remaining on her knees beside his immobile body. “They’re holding him and another doctor hostage in a house in Kansas.”

            “Kidnapped him? Tortured? Why?” Sookie asks.

            “To get information. They know you’re carrying my children,” he answers gravely.

            “So what? In three months the whole world will know you’re the babies’ daddy,” she counters.

            “In three months the babies will be born and no longer inside your womb,” he argues.

            “That’s right. They’ll be helpless infants. At least now we’re all in one place,” Sookie responds.

            He rolls his eyes. “Sookie, we cannot allow these men to go free!”

            “And we don’t kill helpless humans!” she yells stubbornly.

            He is about to argue that the men are far from helpless, that they almost succeeded in killing him, but his wife turns to Maria for support. The tiny Gypsy woman is standing near the smoking pile of what used to be two vehicles, her arms wrapped around herself, and her dark eyes haunted. He wonders what memory the carnage has invoked because she has a look of recognition on her face.

            “Maria, help me out here. Tell him that we don’t kill defenseless people,” his wife pleads.

            The Gypsy Soul Healer raises her eyes to Sookie and shakes her head. “I can’t. If they were a threat to my child or those I love, I would slaughter them all.”

            The words are a shock coming from a woman who has never been anything but gentle and loving, and even Eric is taken aback.

            “What?” his wife blurts.

            Maria picks her way through the charred remains of the two Fords and sweeps her eyes over the battlefield. They fall on Izzy who is still looking haggard and exhausted, and Maria’s face turns sad and resigned.

            “People are afraid of the wrong one of us,” Maria states. “If my son or my family was in danger, I would show no mercy. I would have no reservations about killing anyone who was in my way.” The Gypsy looks at Sookie. “Once your babies are born, you will understand. There is no force in nature more terrifying and fierce than a mother protecting her young.”

            “So? What? We just shoot them as they lay there? Cut off their heads while they can’t move?” his wife demands angrily. “That’s barbaric!”

            “They know our secret! They know **_my_** secrets. They know I am immune to silver and sunlight and can be awake during the day,” Eric argues. “We cannot allow them to leave knowing these things!”

            All the upset has triggered a hormone rush the size of Norway inside his wife, and he can feel it swelling like a tsunami that is about to crush them all. He braces for the impact because he knows he’s about to get swept out to sea.

            “Why? Why do we have to kill them?! Why do we have to live with all these secrets? Why are we always under siege? Why?” his mate screams, losing it completely. “I hate this world! I hate this life! Why was I stupid enough to fall for a vampire! Why did I let you talk me into this! All I ever wanted was to be normal! I want to be a **_normal_** woman with a normal husband and have normal babies, and not have to worry about religious nutcases blowing up my house! **_I’ve had it!_** **_I want out!”_**

            She’s had these tirades before and he knows she doesn’t mean them, but the words still sting. Even after all these years and all he has done, she still longs for a life he can never give her. He feels her getting ready for another round, hears her draw a deep breath to scream some more, but she never gets out a word because she suddenly faints. He rushes to catch her before she hits the ground, and he looks up in time to witness Maria putting something back into a secret compartment in one of her many bracelets. He thought he saw her blowing some sort of powder in his wife’s face right before she collapsed.

            “What did you do?” he accuses, holding his wife close. She appears unharmed and seems merely unconscious. Even the little ones are silent in sleep where just moments before they had been twisting in upset.

            “Dreamflower pollen,” the Gypsy replies. “She was working herself up into a false labor. I had to cut it off before she hurt herself or the babies.”

            He sees Saroyah give the Soul Healer a respectful nod. “Quick thinking. I was about to knock her out myself.”

            The two women share a look of complete accord, and he is reminded once again that the female of the species is much deadlier than the male.

            “Take her inside and put her to bed,” Maria instructs him. “Then come back out and we will decide what to do with these… men.”

            He nods and carries his wife the rest of the way down the drive and enters the old farmhouse. He places her gently on the bed where they made love for the first time when he was cursed and kisses her. This room and all of its memories are near and dear to his heart.

_‘I am sorry it came to this, my lover. I’ll be back soon. Sleep well.’_

            She does not answer him, but he is glad for that because it means she is deeply asleep and getting the rest she needs. The Dreamflower appears to be doing a wonderful job of making his wife sleep, and he wonders if he can get some to use after the Gypsy leaves. It would certainly be useful, and he trusts Maria enough to know that she would never do anything to harm Sookie or the little ones.

            After giving his wife one more kiss, and tucking her into bed, he makes his way back out to where the women are cleaning up the mess. Vincent has arrived, looking none the worse for wear after his fire fighting adventures, and he is helping Saroyah put all of the corpses in one pile on the driveway. Eric approaches the young Fire Demon and places a hand on Vincent’s thin shoulder.

            “Thank you for protecting my wife today and for your valiant efforts in battling the fire,” he says solemnly.

            Vincent ducks his head. “Thanks. I only wish I’d been able to get it before it set the curtains on fire.”

            “Yes, but you did what you could and you performed bravely. That is what is important.”

            The teen sighs and nods. “Yeah.”

            “So what are we doing now?” he asks.

            Vincent waves his hand at the growing piles of corpses and catatonic humans. “Well, we’re separating them into the Dead, the Dumb, and the Doomed.”

            “The Dead, the Dumb, and the Doomed?” he repeats, eyeing the three groupings of bodies.

            “Yeah. The Dead are dead, obviously. The Dumb are the ones who didn’t know any better, didn’t really know what was going on, and who can have their short term memory erased so they forget all the stuff they weren’t supposed to see. The Doomed… they’re the ones we gotta get rid of one way or the other coz they know too much or they can never be trusted,” Vincent explains.

            He eyes the smallest pile and notes that there are only four humans in the “doomed” pile; the grizzled leader among them. He grins evilly and stalks over, his fangs descended.

            “You can’t feed on them,” Izzy warns before he can choose a meal.

            “Why not?” he asks.

            “They’ve poisoned their blood with silver. If you try to drink from them, it’ll make you very sick at the very least, almost kill you at the worst.”

            He snarls, but snaps his fangs back up. “Clever zealots.”

            Izzy agrees. “Well, they might be religious nutcases, but they know their stuff.”

            “So what are we to do with them then? Do you want me to rip their heads off?” he offers, itching to kill if he can’t feed.

            “No, I have something more… creative in mind for them. You can drink from the Dumb pile. No loss there if you take too much from a few of them,” Izzy replies.

            The Dumb pile is by far the largest of the three, and he is still hungry from all the blood loss and healing he’s had to do today, but he knows Sookie will be very unhappy with him if he kills more than is necessary, so he tempers his appetite to stop feeding before the victim is dead.

            Gone are the days when a vampire could glut himself on so much blood he could almost appear human. There are times when he misses those bygone eras of fear and slaughter, but he knows that coming out of the coffin was the only way to save his kind. The miracles of modern human technology have proven that to be true ten times over in the past fifteen years. If they hadn’t come out, they would have been “outed” anyway. At least this way, the vampires have survived – **_he_** has survived.

            He takes draughts from five Dumb ones before his slakes his thirst, and each is left alive to **_not_** tell the tale because between him and Izzy, they are going to wipe out the short-term memories of all the Dumb ones and then send them off in their own cars. They will wake up in an abandoned warehouse in Monroe, with vivid memories of drunken revelry, cock fighting, and nude women mud wrestling. It will guarantee that they are too embarrassed and confused to tell anyone about their little “dalliance” the night before.

            The nude mud wrestling was Vincent’s idea. Apparently he has been watching far too much late night TV.

            The Dead are incinerated by a blast of Black Fire courtesy of the S-Team’s celebrated Fire Demon, and all that is left of the pile of bodies is a smear of grease and a scorch mark that they cover up by redistributing the gravel over it. The wreckage of the Ford and the pick-up truck is a bit more involved, but they manage to gather up what’s left and get rid of it.

            He is once again glad that Sookie’s ancestral home is deep in the woods, far away from the nearest non-vampire neighbor. He knows Compton probably is aware of the battle and the spilled blood, and he will have to brief his underling after dark. He will also enlist Bill’s help in locating and disposing of whatever cars the dead Fellowship members have parked nearby.

            Once the Dead and Dumb are dealt with, all that is left is the Doomed, and he turns to Izzy and Maria who have been making preparations for Izzy’s “creative” solution.

            “We’re almost ready,” Izzy tells him, giving him a knowing smile.

            “Is there anything I can do to help?” he asks.

            “Nope. Just stand back,” the woman answers, standing in front of the four Doomed men lying side by side on the gravel driveway.

            He sees Izzy raise her arm, one hand pointing with a single finger, and she begins the slowly bring the finger down. To his amazement, there is light streaming from around the tip of her finger, as if she is cutting the very air with her hand. The light gets brighter and brighter as he sees a tear open up in the barrier between their world and the worlds next to theirs. He can hear her straining, and see the sweat beading on her forehead, as the tear widens and expands until it is almost as tall as he, then she grunts and flicks out her arm in a violent slash. The tear pulses and spreads out like a wave, catching the Doomed men lying on the driveway. The rift sucks them in, swallowing them up like a great sea monster of old lore, and they blip out of sight.

            It’s over in seconds, and when it is done, Izzy groans and collapses to her knees. Maria kneels next to her, one hand on her friend’s shoulder to offer strength and comfort.

            “What did you do?” he demands, still reeling from what he has just seen.

            “I sent them to Hell… or rather, I sent them to what they will think is Hell. Now they will learn what **_real_** demons look like,” Izzy replies tiredly, but her eyes are glowing.

            “You sent them to a demon dimension,” Saroyah says with some respect.

            Izzy pants and looks up at the Britlingen. “One of ‘em. Not sure which one, tho. I can’t really control where the rift opens up. It depends on which world is closest at the time.”

            The two women grin at each other, and the malicious glee on their faces makes him shudder. Anyone who thinks vampires are ruthless and evil has obviously not gone up against either of these two formidable forces.

            “Okay. Aside from the missing cars these guys came in, I think we’re done,” Izzy says.

            “Agreed,” Saroyah.

            “What is happening with the house in Shereveport?” Maria asks.

            “The police want to see Eric and Sookie after dark. The arson inspector and the fire chief were going in today to assess the damage and look for clues. I told them it was a Molotov cocktail that started the whole thing,” Vincent replies.

            “I will contact my day people and get them moving on getting an insurance adjustor out to look at the damage and begin scheduling repairs. You said the living room and front foyer were the worst?” Eric says.

            Vincent nods. “Yeah. I think you may have to rip out the whole front wall of the house.”

            He frowns, but it is something that can be dealt with later. “Was the back of the house damaged?”

            “Nope, and the in-laws quarters were untouched too. I’d already put out most of the fire before the fire department got there,” Vincent answers.

            “Good. Good.”

            “You should get out of the daylight. You might be charmed, but you shouldn’t push it,” Saroyah warns him, giving him a critical once over.

            He can’t say he disagrees with the demonic bodyguard. He knows he looks like he has just been through a warzone, and he is covered in blood and dirt. His clothes are in tatters, his slippers nonexistent, and he needs a bath, and he wants to be with his wife again. His protective instincts are telling him that it has been too long since he has seen her.

            “We’ll stay with you until sundown,” Maria tells him. “I’ll put the shield back up and we can all sleep in safety.”

            “Thank you,” he replies and begins to make his way to the house.

            He calls his lawyer from Maria’s cell phone on the way to the bedroom, and he is surprised to find out that the man has already been contacted by the fire marshal and the wheels are already turning to deal with the matter. He tosses the phone on the dresser and goes to take a quick shower to wash the blood and filth from his body. He leaves the magic mint leaf under his tongue, just in case he needs to be alert again before sundown, and slides naked into bed beside his still sleeping wife and snuggles close.

            He lets his hand rest lightly over the mound of Sookie’s womb, feeling for the lives within. They, too, are still sleeping, and he makes a mental note to ask Maria for more Dreamflower pollen. He croons a lullaby his own mother sang to him when he was a child, and lets the tension of the battle and the fear drain from his body as he tells himself and his loved ones that the danger is past and all is well.

            Beside him, Sookie sighs and moves closer to him. He breathes in her scent and feels her life thrumming along side his in the bond, and he lets himself slip into downtime.


	14. Chapter 14

Chapter Fourteen

 

            Sookie wakes slowly, and she feels like she is swimming to the surface after diving deep to the bottom of a pool. She fights against the pressure surrounding her and forces her sluggish mind to focus.

            Her hearing comes back first, and she hears Eric singing softly. He is singing in Old Norse, and she smiles. No one would believe Eric Northman is a singer, but he sings when he is happy or when he is trying to comfort someone. Right now he is singing to their unborn children, and she knows they are avidly listening.

            As she lays there, focusing on his voice because she doesn’t have control over her limbs yet, all of the events of earlier come back, and she remembers the terrible things she said. Remorse hits her and she feels her throat close as a lump forms to almost choke her.

            _‘Oh. Oh, I am so horrible to have said such awful things,’_ she despairs.

            _‘No more than you have ever been,’_ her mate and lover sends to her. _‘At least this time you didn’t call me a soul-less, undead bastard.’_

 _‘I am so so sorry,’_ she apologizes.

            Cool lips press to her forehead and she is surrounded by love. _‘There is a saying in Swedish. Älska mig, när I förtjänar least det, därför att det är när jag behöver egentligen den. Love me when I least deserve it, because that’s when I really need it.’_

            Tears leak from her closed eyes and she can feel him licking them away gently. _‘You must do a lot of that – loving me when I least deserve it.’_

            He chuckles and kisses her hair. “About as much as you do for me, my lover.”

            She sighs and the tension leaves her body as her hand instinctively reaches down to caress her growing belly. “Thank you.”

            “For what? For loving you? For forgiving you? For wanting to give you a mind-blowing orgasm?” Eric teases and she can hear the laughter in his voice. His lips are by her ear and his tongue flicks out to lick her earlobe.

            “Hmmph. It has been four days for you, hasn’t it? And you did battle today,” she says.

            “Mmm hmm, and you smell of fire and blood and death.”

            “All aphrodisiacs for a vampire.”

            She hears him rumble deep in his chest as he nibbles the soft spot on her throat. “Mmmm, you know me so well, lover.”

            “Too bad there’s no fairy on me,” she comments lightly.

            “If there were, I would not be responsible for my actions.”

            “Are you ever responsible for your actions?”

            “When they concern you?” he asks even as he begins to kiss her down her neck to her breasts. “No. You bewitch me, woman, with your very presence. I lose all sense of reason whenever I am around you.”

            “Uh huh. And that is all my fault,” she replies even as she arches her back into his touch.

            His hands are gathering up her nightgown and his lips are gently sucking on her protruding navel. She had an “innie” before she got pregnant, but now her “innie” has popped out. Saroyah says this is normal and it will invert again once she has given birth. She hopes so because she doesn’t like it even though Eric finds her new “teat” charming.

            “Of course,” he purrs as he moves even lower. She sighs and gives over to his attentions, not bothering to wonder if there are ears nearby to hear them.

 _‘Maria, Izzy, and the boy are in the house, but they’ve heard us have sex before,’_ he tells her, letting his tongue make lazy circles on her thigh as his hands spread her legs.

            _‘I don’t know what disturbs me more: the fact that we are doing this when they are in the house, or the fact that it doesn’t bother me nearly as much as it should.’_

            He laughs and his breath is cool against her quickly warming flesh, and she gasps as the tip of his tongue finds her sweet spot. Her next answer is a groan, and she feels his exultation through the bond.

            Despite her comment, and his desperation, they are quiet as they join, and Eric is gentle, being careful of her back and the babies growing inside her. Their unborn son and daughter already have ringside seats to her and Eric’s lovemaking, and they have discovered that neither infant likes being roughly jostled. She feels Eric’s relief as they both climax, and she feels badly for making him wait so long.

            _‘You are heavy and tired and uncomfortable. None of these things make you feel amorous,’_ her husband tells her as they snuggle in the afterglow.

_‘Thank you for being so understanding.’_

            He kisses her hair and chuckles into her temple. _‘That’s me, Mr. Sensitive.’_

_‘Prick.’_

_‘Why yes, I do, and it’s a very nice one, or so you have told me.’_

            She groans and half-heartedly smacks him. _‘You._ _But your butt is still better.’_

_‘I suppose you are entitled to your opinion, even if I must disagree.’_

            She snorts but snuggles close, letting his contentment and joy flow into her.

            _‘Eric…’_ she asks after several moments of silence. _‘What happened after I… got knocked out?’_

            She had no illusions that someone had done something to her because she was cut off in mid-tirade.

            _‘Maria gave you Dreamflower pollen. It causes the breather to fall immediately to sleep. And the survivors were sent off with their memories altered, the dead were disposed of, and the dangerous ones were sent to an alternate dimension by Izzy,’_ Eric explains.

_‘How many?’_

_‘Dead or dangerous?’_

_‘Both.’_

_‘Ninteen dead, including the ones I drained afterwards, and four dangerous ones who will be waking up in a place where they will learn what real demons look like,’_ he answers.

            She frowns, but nods. She doesn’t like it, but the Fellowship sealed their fate when they attacked her and Eric.

            “I have contacted our lawyer and the AVL. They will be handling any fallout from today’s altercation,” Eric says. “The Kansas vampires have been alerted and efforts are being made to rescue Dr. Kalas and the other doctor they are holding prisoner.”

            “And the house in Shreveport?”

            “Vincent says the damage is minimal. Someone is already inspecting it for repairs, but we will have to stay here in the interim, my lover.”

            “Oh, like you hate staying here,” she teases.

            “I do admit to having a certain fondness for this bed and the attached shower, if only for the memories it invokes,” he replies with a sly smile.

            “Uh huh, and you like fucking me on this bed.”

            “I like fucking you anywhere, dearest, but this bed does have its charms.”

            She laughs and lets out a deep sigh, one hand stroking her womb and the other clasped lightly around her vampire’s forearm.

            “I love you,” she whispers.

            “And I love you, my lover. Always.”

            “I know. You love me even when I don’t deserve it.”

            “I love you always,” he repeats softly as she feels his lips kiss her temple tenderly, and she fights back the tears that well in her eyes.

            “Damn hormones,” she complains, wiping her eyes quickly.

            “I believe Maria has ice cream for that.”

            “Oh yeah, like I need ice cream. I’m fat as a house already.”

            “In my day a fat woman was worshipped. You should be proud of your curves, and your swelling belly.”

            “I am proud to be having your babies, Eric, but I’ll be glad to get my figure back. I would like to see my feet again,” she says seriously.

            “Soon enough. Just another twelve weeks and we will see our little ones in person.”

            “Both Saroyah and Dr. Marconi say I might go early,” she reminds.

            “Not if I have anything to say about it. Our babies will stay right where they are until they reach forty weeks even if I have to tie your legs shut to keep them in.”

            “What a comforting thought,” she replies drolly.

            He chuckles and shifts to pull her closer against him. Post-coital Eric is still cuddly Eric, but she has no complaints. She likes to feel protected in his arms and soon she is drifting to sleep again, lulled by his deep crooning as he sings to her and their unborn children.

 

            Her next moment of awareness comes several hours later. It is well past sunset and she has been awakened by the buzzing of Eric’s cell phone. He’s put it on vibrate, but the low humming of the phone, and her mate’s quick answering of it, jar her out of her light sleep.

            “Speak,” she hears Eric say into the receiver, his voice irritated that they have been disturbed.

            She waits quietly, listening in on his thoughts as he converses with the vampire on the other end. The vamp is calling to tell Eric that Dr. Kalas and Dr. Garner have been rescued and they are more or less in one piece. Both have been admitted to a hospital in Topeka and are under heavy protective guard, but it appears that the truth of Eric being the father of Sookie’s babies has gotten out and damage control measures will need to be put into place. Her mate makes the appropriate noises of understanding, then punts to the King.

            “King Felipe de Castro is aware of the situation. Forward all requests for information through his office,” Eric commands. “Let it be known that I will kill any member of the Press who tries to accost myself or my wife. We will prepare a formal statement and release it for general distribution. That will be all.”

            She smiles to herself at his threat as she hears him hang up. The Freedom of the Press and the First Amendment mean nothing to her overprotective mate.

            “Hmmph. Let them try to get a picture of you now. I will shove their cameras up their asses right before I rip out their throats,” he growls.

            She laughs. “Now that is something I’d like to see. It’d make a great news spot on a vamp gossip show.”

            “Vamp gossip show?” he repeats, confused, as he settles next to her again, his arm coming around her to pull her close.

            “You know, like those shows with paparazzi who follow celebrities around, only with vamps instead.”

            “Ah. I think I may have heard mention of such shows, but I have never seen them.”

            “Since someone doesn’t want me to work, I’ve been watching a lot more TV,” she complains sulkily.

            “So it’s my fault if you get addicted to soap operas and Dr. Phil?” he replies, one eyebrow raised.

            “And Oprah, and People’s Court,” she adds.

            “Right. I think I need to get you a new hobby, lover. You have too much idle time on your hands.”

            She pats her belly. “Pretty soon idle time will not be a problem.”

            “True, but you will have Saroyah to help you, and me. You will not be alone,” he promises.

            “I know. Thank you.”

            She feels his fingers play with her hair as he moves closer. “Anything for you, my lover.”

            She sighs, letting her eyes scan the room lazily. It hasn’t changed in over a decade. The wallpaper is the same, the furniture the same, even the linens and curtains are the same delicate floral pattern. The room is familiar, comforting, and she smiles to herself as she absently rubs her belly.

            “I wish Gran had lived to see her great-grandchildren,” she says wistfully.

            “So do I. I would have liked to have known your grandmother.”

            “I think she would have liked you.”

            “That is good to hear. I would have held her in high regard.”

            “She would have been happy for me when she heard the news. She was the one person who never judged me or my choices,” she confides with regret.

            “She must have loved you very much.”

            “She took me and Jason in and raised us when she didn’t have to. She could have let the state take us instead.”

            “She would not have been a woman worth her salt if she had. From all that I have heard, your grandmother was a strong and honorable woman,” Eric replies.

            “She was.”

            She frowns a little, the grief of loss still touching her even more than a decade later, and she feels Eric’s comfort come into the bond to soothe her sadness. The sharp edge is off her pain, but it is still there, a dull ache that hits her when she least expects it. The memory of Adele Hale Stackhouse is especially close in this room, and she knows what she wants to do. She hopes Eric will not object.

            “Eric…” she begins softly.

            “Yes, my lover?”

            “I want to name our daughter Adele.”

            “For your grandmother?”

            “Yes.”

            “Then she shall be named Adele. A strong, beautiful name for a strong, beautiful woman,” he agrees with finality.

            “Thank you,” she says with a smile. She should have known that he would understand.

            His face is millimeters from her own, and she can see the amusement dancing in his blue eyes.

            “Did you think I would object? To be honest, I expected you to name our girlchild after the woman who raised you.”

            “Am I that predicable?”

            “Only to me.

            She laughs and moves her head to fit under his chin. “Do you have any preferences for what we should name our son?” she asks.

            “I have given it some thought.”

            “And?”

            “I am conflicted. I do not wish to name the boychild after me, but at the same I want his name to reflect his heritage.”

            “You want to give him a Viking name.”

            “Yes.”

            “So… any suggestions?”

            “Hmmm… well I was considering Agnarr after my younger brother.”

            “He was killed in battle,” she says softly.

            “As were my other brothers, Geirr and Örn, but I was closest to Agnarr. He was only a year younger than me.”

            “It must have been terrible for you to see them die.”

            She feels him blanch and instinctively clutch her closer. “Yes. I wanted to die, too, but that was not my fate.”

            “I’m so sorry.”

            “Don’t be. If I had died, then I would not have lived to find you, and I would not know the joy I know now. Nothing compares to the happiness I have with you, my lover. I would not trade it for the Halls of Valhalla itself.”

            “You always know the right things to say,” she says with a happy sigh. He always did make her feel valued and loved.

            “I’ve had lots of practice.”

            She chuckles. “I guess you have.”

            “Oh yes,” he breathes, his breath blowing cool across her sensitive earlobe as his hands wander lower. “But as they say, my lover, practice does make perfect…”

            She moans as she surrenders to his attentions and lets him bring her to the halls of their own personal Valhalla.

            “So… Agnarr, huh?” she says after he has given her pleasure and taken some of his own.

            “It is the name I am most gravitating towards,” he confesses.

            “It sounds like a good, strong name.”

            “It is.”

            She nods in understanding. “Could we make his middle name Corbett, for my dad?”

            “Agnarr Corbett. Hmm. I have no objections. Can we name Adele Adele Etta for my little sister?”

            “Adele Etta. I like that. Etta is a pretty name.”

            “Yes.”

            “So Adele Etta and Agnarr Corbett it is.” She rubs her womb, feeling the life inside her turn towards the pressure. Both of their babies are awake and as aware as unborn children are in the womb. “What do you think in there? You like those names?”

            Their minds are devoid of coherent thought, but she senses no distress from them. Their world consists of darkness and water and the muffled sounds from the outside.

            “I think they will be fine with them.”

            She huffs. “I hope so. You have no idea how much fun it was to be named Sookie. And half the time the people weren’t even commenting about it out loud.”

            “Sookie is an unusual name,” he admits.

            “You think?”

            “Well… no more than, say, Norbert or Percy,” he says lightly.

            “Norbert?” she repeats with some offence.

            “It was much more popular in the 1900’s.”

            “Uh huh, and how many Sookies have you known?”

            He smiles and the smile lights up his whole face. “Just one.”

            She smiles back, brushing her fingertips across his cool flesh. “Good answer.”

            He gives her a little shrug as if he already knew that and kisses her forehead. Her stomach growls in the following silence and her husband frowns.

            “You are hungry. We must get you something to eat.”

            She crinkles her nose unhappily. “That would mean getting out of bed, and I just don’t have the energy to move.”

            “Normally I’d be able to take responsibility for that, but in this case I think we must blame it on the little ones,” he quips.

            “I dunno. I do think you might be a contributing factor.”

            He laughs but sits up, reaching for a robe at the foot of the bed. “I will see what there is to eat in this place. I am sure Maria has cooked something. I can smell some sort of food.”

            “But there might not be any left. Vincent is here,’ she reminds, watching him as he prepares to leave the safe cocoon of their room.

            “If there is none, then I will make a call out to your shifter’s bar and order out.”

            _‘There’s plenty. Mia’s made corn chowder soup and sourdough bread,’_ Izzy’s mindvoice interrupts.

            _‘Oooh, corn chowder sounds delicious,’_ she answers.

            _‘I’ll make up a tray for Eric to bring in.’_

_‘Thank you.’_

_‘No problem.’_

            Having been privy to the conversation, Eric has no need to ask her what Izzy’s said and he is already moving to go get her food.

            “I’ll be right back, lover.”

            “Thank you, Eric,” she says from the comfort of the bed.

            “Anything for you, dearest.”

            He slips from the room as silently as a vampire, leaving her to stare at the ceiling of the old bedroom and let her mind wander. She remembers all the days and nights she spent here, both before and after Gran’s death. She remembers her time with Bill, and then with Amnesiac Eric that fateful New Year’s night when she found him running on the road. Had she loved him even then? Now, more than ten years later, she can admit that yes, she probably had loved **_her_** Eric during those few nights they’d had together, and it was that love that gave rise to the love she felt now because she saw in those nights the man Eric could be.

            _‘I do not know why you continue to reminisce on that time and refer to me as someone you think I am not. Your Eric? Have you not learned that he and I are one and the same?’_ Eric chides as he returns with a tray laden with hot soup, steaming bread and herbal tea. _‘I have, and have always been, **your** Eric.’_

            He gives her a reproving look as he places the tray down on the bed and begins arranging the pillows to support her back. He fusses like a mother hen, and it makes her smile.

            _‘I’m sorry. I’m just maudlin,’_ she apologizes.

            Normally he would put the tray on her lap, but since she has no lap to speak of, he sits next to her with the tray in his lap and begins to feed her. It’s very, very good, but then she has come to expect no less from Maria. The soup is perfectly seasoned and the bread is soft and flavorful as he dips hunks of it into the soup and presses them to her waiting lips.

 _‘I can feed myself, you know,’_ she complains even as she obligingly opens her mouth for another bite.

            _‘I know, but I like feeding you. I like providing for you and helping you. It shows that I am a good provider and a good mate.’_

_‘You’ve always been a good mate.’_

            He gives her a wicked smile. _‘I know.’_

            She swats at him and he tsks at her. _‘Now, now, is that any way to treat the man who has your dinner?’_

            _‘Is that any way to treat the woman who’s **been** your dinner?_ ’ she quips back.

            He laughs and gives her another bite. _‘Why do you think I take such care in what you eat. I am protecting my own food supply.’_

            She snorts and shakes her head. There is no arguing with him.

            _‘And see, it has only taken you ten years of marriage to figure that out.’_

She tries not to choke on her swallowed laughter as he spoons more food into her mouth. She loses the battle when he winks at her, and her giggle earns her a smirk. She tries to be difficult by closing her mouth for the next bite, and he raises an eyebrow as he makes little circles with the spoon, aiming it at her tight lips.

            “What is it… here comes the airplane?” he says with amusement.

            She gasps out a laugh and shakes her head. “Airplane?”

            “Isn’t that what you do for a recalcitrant toddler who does not want to eat? Or was that a train? I get the two confused.”

            “A train?”

            “You know choo-choo,” he replies, shoving the spoon into her mouth before she can snap her jaw shut. Luckily she doesn’t choke on the soup.

            “Where on earth did you come up with that?” she says when she can speak.

            “I was watching parenting videos Pam downloaded to help me learn what to expect after the Little Ones are born.”

            “ ** _Pam_** downloaded **_parenting_** videos for you?” she blurts.

            “Well, it’s been centuries since I’ve had to deal with children. She thought it best for me to be prepared.” He makes more train noises as he tries to feed her another bite.

            _‘I am **not** a recalcitrant toddler,’_ she argues, but eats mostly because she **_is_** hungry.

            _‘Are you sure?’_ he counters with a wry smile.

            _‘If you want to get laid anytime before our children **are** toddlers, I suggest you change your tune, buster,_ ’ she threatens.

            She sees his eyes widen, but the smile on his lips spreads. _‘Now why would you deprive yourself of my attentions for such a long time just to spite me?’_

_‘Don’t underestimate yourself, dear.’_

_‘You mean I’m **not** the best lover you’ve ever had? That’s odd since I can recall a number of times when you’ve screamed just that.’_

            She rolls her eyes. _‘It must have been a lapse in judgment or sanity,’_ she replies, opening her mouth to let him give her two more bites in quick succession.

_‘Well, you have said you were crazy to bond with me, so perhaps the last ten years has been a decade of mental delusion?’_

_‘Oh I am sure one of us is delusional for sure,’_ she quips.

            Eric roars with laughter, then kisses her swiftly, making tingles run down her spine. Even heavily pregnant and worried for her safety, he still has the ability to move her down to her soul.

_‘Eric…’_

_‘My lover…’_

_‘If you two lovebirds are quite finished, are you decent enough to receive visitors?’_ Izzy’s amused mindvoice interrupts.

            _‘We are never decent, but we are not indisposed,’_ Eric replies, giving her a wink as he pulls away. She snickers.

            A moment later, the room is invaded by Maria, Izzy and Vincent. Vincent smiles and takes a seat in the chair near the foot of the bed while the two women stand beside it.

            “While the two of you were otherwise occupied, we got a call from one of our contacts in Colorado,” Izzy says with a sardonic smile. “He says they have received reports that the research facility in Boulder has been raided. There is evidence that the Fellowship of the Sun is behind the attack, and years’ worth of data and research has been destroyed.”

            “Damn,” she whispers, lowering her eyes. “But no one was hurt, right? No one was killed?”

            “To the best of our knowledge the facility was attacked after hours, and the only people there were the night guards,” Maria assures her. “There were no fatalities.”

            She grips Eric’s hand tightly, and he squeezes back.

            “That still doesn’t change the fact that the Holy Rollers now have the names of all the test subjects and their results. Today’s attack was only the beginning. They’re going to be gunning for you even more now,” Izzy warns.

            She shivers because she knows it’s true, and her heart bottoms into her stomach. There will be nowhere safe, and her friends and loved ones will be in danger because of her. She hates it, hates the reality of hate and what it makes supposedly good people do. Izzy levels her with a serious look, and she knows she is not going to like what the woman says next.

            “Given the delicate state of your condition, it would be wise for you to relocate to a more secure place, at least until the babies are born,” Izzy states.

            “No,” she replies automatically. “This is my home. My family is here, my friends are here. I will not be chased away by a bunch of zealots.”

            “Lover… perhaps we should think of the Little Ones safety…” her husband tries reasonably, but she is in no mood to be reasonable.

            “No. Our babies are being born right here in Louisiana. I refuse to be run out of my own home. No,” she refuses vehemently.

            “I get what you’re saying, I really do, but it’d be a hell of a lot safer for all of you if you were to go to Isle Elena until after the birth,” Izzy says.

            She can’t explain why she feels so strongly about it, but she just can’t bring herself to agree. The very fact that she and Eric could be forced out of their home and her children born on unfamiliar soil galls her. Yes, she loves Isle Elena, and she knows she and Eric will be safe there, but it isn’t home, and she wants to be home.

            “No. I don’t care what we have to do, but we’re staying here. Why the hell did we spend all that money to hire Saroyah if we were just going to run like rabbits? I’m already followed around by an armed guard 24/7. What else can anyone do?” she answers firmly.

            “And today proves that not even that formidable force is impenetrable,” Izzy counters. “If we hadn’t gotten here in time, there is no telling what would have happened.”

            “But you did get here in time, so we’ll never know,” she snaps angrily.

            “Next time, we might not be able to get here so fast. You were lucky we were near a portal that got us here quick.”

            “And I’m grateful, but…” She looks at Eric, her eyes pleading. “Please, Eric, I don’t want to do this. Don’t make me do this. Please. I want our babies to be born here.”

            She sees him close his eyes and drop his shoulders in defeat. “Lover… you don’t know what you are asking. You are asking me to keep you in a war zone, and I…”

            “So? Make this place a fortress like the castles in medieval times. Build a moat. Hire archers. Do whatever you have to do to make sure no one can get in.”

            Eric shakes his head, his face pained. “You would be a prisoner here for months, my lover. You would not be able to leave these grounds without an armed guard and a police escort. Our businesses and properties would be targets for attack…”

            “They already **_are_** targets. _Fangtasia_ and _Stackhouse’s_ have been on the Fellowship’s hit list for years. There’s no difference there,” she argues.

            He sighs and she can feel him gathering his thoughts to formulate a response. “I know, but now they have even more reason to want to hurt us, to break us.”

            She looks at him seriously. “Eric, if they make us move and chase us from our home, then they **_will_** have broken us. We’re stronger than that.”

            “Sometimes it is better to cede land to an invading force with the intention of seizing it back later,” he responds equally seriously. “We must not forget what is most important, my lover: your safety and the safety of our little ones. Everything else can be replaced.”

            She shakes her head, her heart breaking. “Eric… I can’t. It goes against everything I believe in. I’m sorry.”

            He sighs. “You always were a woman of conviction even to the point of belligerence…”

            “I am not belligerent,” she argues.

            He casts her a long look, one eyebrow raised, but she just juts out her chin… belligerently. He closes his eyes and she can hear him praying for patience. She waits, trying not to be petulant and cranky, and realizes that he has shielded his thoughts from her, probably because they are violent and involve her slow, agonizing death.

            “If you insist on staying here in the line of fire, you will need another one of us to insure your safety,” Saroyah interrupts, her large frame taking up most of the open bedroom doorway.

            “Another Britlingen midwife?” she asks.

            Saroyah crosses her arms. “No, that is my duty. You would require one of us who specializes in personal protection and combat.”

            “Like Batanya and Clovache in Rhodes,” she breathes, remembering the muscular bodyguards.

            “Yes. You would need a trained warrior to ensure your safety,” Saroyah replies.

            “Why? I already have you and Vincent and Eric and the Vampires of Area Five and the Shreveport Weres, plus Quinn and Sam and Amelia’s Coven. If all of them can’t keep me safe, how can adding another Britlingen make any difference?” she questions, trying not to sound petty.

            “Because a Britlingen would not concern herself with your human laws and customs,” Eric answers gravely. “A warrior Britlingen would attack and kill anyone or anything that got too close regardless of whether or not it was a threat, plus she would have no reservations about performing what you call a preemptive strike.”

            Saroyah nods. “Yes. One of them would have taken out the higher level leaders of the Fellowship months ago to throw the group into chaos.”

            Sookie gasps. “But how could they do that? Someone would see her and know she was responsible…” She stops herself, remembering with a shocked gasp how Batanya and Clovache could make themselves invisible. “Oh,” she whispers, rubbing her abdomen for comfort.

            “I can make some inquiries as to who is available if you would like,” Saroyah offers.

            “No!” she says a bit too quickly, feeling a surge of panic. “No, thank you, Saroyah, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”

            “Our only other option, my lover, is to put you under house arrest,” Eric states. He’s playing hardball, and she resents it, but she knows why.

            “I can put up another Level 9 shield, but that means the only ones who could get through would be those who had a key,” Maria says. “I could link it to the Dragon’s Tears and cover the whole property.”

            “That’s a good place to start,” she agrees. “Thank you.”

            “If you insist on staying here where people will know where you are, then you will need a powerful shield,” the Gypsy reasons.

            “What would you do if you were me?” she asks Maria, one mother-to-be to a mother she respects.

            The small woman gives her a little shrug. “If it were me, I would disappear. In many ways, I **_did_** disappear. After I found out I was pregnant with Zolan’s child, I went into hiding. The only ones who knew where I was were Izzy and the midwife Izzy found for me. Other than those two, I cut off all ties with both the human and the demon worlds.”

            Sookie gulps and looks away. “And you think I should do that too.”

            “It was easier for me. I had no family to speak of and no home to miss. My family disowned me years ago. Izzy is my only family, and she was with me. She sacrificed everything for me to make sure I was safe,” Maria says.

            Sookie glances at Izzy, her face grim. In the ten years she has known the two women, she has learned of some of the things Izzy was willing to do for Maria and the terrible cost of some of her decisions.

            “So you have a choice,” Izzy states in a cold, practical tone. “You can restrict your movements, and allow yourself to become even more heavily guarded than you already are, or you can relocate to a more secure location. Either decision involves sacrifice. You need to decide what you’re going to give up.”

            The message is clear: ‘You’re being a brat, and you need to put on your big girl panties and deal with it.’ Izzy isn’t one to mince words or sugar-coat things. Her life has been hard, and she has no time for the delicate sensibilities of a wilting Southern flower. No matter what Sookie chooses, she is going to have to make a sacrifice, and there is no way of getting around it. Izzy knows better than most what someone will be willing to do protect the ones she loves.

            A tiny part of Sookie’s brain rebels at the older woman’s blunt words. She wants to counter that she’s already given up a lot, that she gave up any hope of a normal life when she bonded to a vampire, that her life has been a series of losses and compromises and could-have-beens. She wants to snap that if she’d bothered to marry a human man, and bear a human child conceived in the usual way, none of this would be necessary. She wants to rail against the plain truth of it, and the unfairness, but she feels her husband’s pain however briefly he lets her feel it, and she knows that she is being unkind.

            The even more blunt and plainer truth is that she was never meant for “normal” no matter who she married. She was never going to have a white picket fence, and 2.5 kids, and a husband who worked 9-to-5. She was never going to be the PTA mom or the hostess for the auxiliary club. She’d been born a telepath. She’d been called Crazy Sookie decades before she met Bill Compton. Her great-grandfather was a fairy Prince.

            No, the lack of “normalcy” in her life wasn’t Eric’s, or any Supe’s, fault. It was simply a consequence of her own circumstances. And really, could she have done better? She had caught the eye and heart, and soul, of a 1,000-yr old immortal being who re-defined the word “devotion.” She had paired with a man who was willing to literally bend the laws of nature to give her the babies that now grew inside her, simply because he knew it would make her happy. He was loyal, and loving, and faithful. He put her happiness above his own. He had proven time and time again that he would do anything and everything for her.

            What more could she ask for out of life, and would she really trade what she had for the illusion of normalcy? If she did, then the joke really was on her because it would be the stupidest thing she’s ever done.

            She looks at Eric again and is humbled. He looks back and gives her a small smile as he silently accepts her apology. She sighs and knows what she must do.

            “Alright,” she says, gathering her resolve. “Tell me what I need to do to make all of this work.”

 


	15. Chapter 15

Chapter Fifteen

 

            Eric stands on the roof and scans the night sky for the umpteenth time, his sharp eyes and ears trained to pick out anything that does not belong. In the distance, he can see the faint glow of campfires and hear the hoots and whistles the border guards use to communicate with each other. Somewhere out there, the men and women of the 9th Desert Ranger Battalion are on patrol, Navajos mostly and well suited to the conditions of the dry, barren landscape.

            All seems quiet, but he knows that can just mark the calm before the storm. He’s been through it enough times for the situation to make him uneasy, and he wishes once again that he and Sookie had been able to make it to Isle Elena before the King could order him to bring his mate here.

            “Here” being a reactivated military base in the middle of the Mohave Desert. He and Sookie are one of five bonded pairs, all awaiting the birth of their children, who have been relocated to this supposedly secure and impenetrable fortress. The operation is a joint venture between three U.S. Government agencies, five vampire Kings and the U.S. military, and they are all here, apparently, for their own safety and protection. He has his doubts about the validity of their claims, but he cannot refuse an order from his King, and so he and Sookie must wait out the remainder of her pregnancy in this desolate place.

            He is, as they say these days, not a “happy camper,” but Sookie is even less happy. Had they managed to get to Isle Elena before Felipe commanded them here, they could have claimed asylum, but it was not to be, and they are making the best of it as much as they can. It is not a pleasant situation for either of them, nor is it any fun for the other four couples who are already on edge from their trials with the in vitro and subsequent pregnancies.

            There were originally seven bonded pairs who had successfully conceived using the methods pioneered by the Colorado doctors, but one pair was murdered – the woman’s dismembered body was prominently displayed on a Fellowship of the Sun website, her mangled fetus (a little boy) ripped out of her womb. Her vampire mate died trying to protect her, so of course there was nothing left of him to display – and another couple lost their baby from all the stress. It is these losses that prompted the Kings of the states where the bonded pairs lived to cooperate with the U.S. government to reactivate this military base and move the remaining five pairs into protective custody.

            It galls him, and he thinks it is insane to have all of them in the same place, but it’s not his call to make. He is compelled to obey his King, and now he prowls his “territory” for any threats. He and the other four vampires here immediately carved the complex into Areas and staked (no pun intended) their claims on choice locations. Humans and shifters and other non-vampires can move freely between the Areas, but there is a silent accord among the vampires that proper protocol will be followed when entering another’s territory. It prevents bloody disputes and avoids collateral damages, at least so far, but they’ve been here almost nine weeks and nerves are fraying. He knows he is getting more and more on edge with each passing night, and the others are no better. Something will have to give and soon.

            He has to admit, however, that the place is well guarded. Including Saroyah, there are nine Britlingens – an unprecedented number – guarding the place, although a few have gone out on “reconnaissance missions” somewhere off the base. There is no television or Internet here, but he can guess what the warriors are up to and he doubts his mate would approve. What snippets of news he does hear from training his hearing on the radio transmissions coming into the base (humans truly underestimate the acuteness of vampire senses) have told him of a number of mysterious deaths among the upper ranks of the Fellowship and other outspoken anti-vampire/anti-supernatural groups. The Britlingens are “cleaning house” as he expected, but at least these warriors are not in his employ so if his mate finds out about their activities it won’t come back on him. He’s fine with that.

            Movement off to his left catches his eye, and he turns his head to see one of the other vampires who shares this gilded cage with him. He is a Cossack vampire with an impressive history that goes back nearly four centuries, and Eric respects him. Sergei and his bonded, Josephine, occupy the wing next to his and Sookie’s rooms, and they see each other often as they patrol their respective territories.

            He nods to the Cossack, and Sergei nods back, twirling one end of his long, black moustache in his fingers as he makes his way over to where Eric is standing on the roof.

            “Greetings, Viking,” Sergei says in his deep, thick voice.

            “Greetings, Russian,” he replies.

            “It is quiet tonight, no? No sounds but the savages hooting to each other.”

            Eric knows Sergei is talking about the 9th, but he remains silent on the subject. “No, all seems as it should be.”

            The Cossack nods once. They both know that there have been attempts by “hostiles” to infiltrate the base, all with no success, but since it’s been eight nights since he and Sookie have had sex, he’d welcome a fight.

            “My bonded tells me there was some excitement today, however,” Sergei says leadingly.

            He quirks up an eyebrow because the Cossack isn’t usually so chatty. He knows Sookie is fine because he can feel her through the bond. They are both so stressed and unhappy that they have closed it almost completely so as not so set each other off, but he can still feel her life force, and her basic overall health, even if the strength of her emotions is muted. She is, however, more unhappy than she usually is these days, and that is of concern. It hints that there is something wrong – at least more wrong than them having to be here instead of home or among friends.

            “Oh?” he replies.

            “Yes. Josephine tells me the little China girl gave birth today.”

            A shock runs through him, but he does not show it. Sergei can only mean Quan-ji, the young bonded of Tsun-Zhu, a Chinese vampire from the Ming Dynasty. He is an arrogant, authoritarian vampire who serves under the King of Washington state, and Eric has no fondness for him. They have nearly come to blows more than once for the disrespect Tsun-Zhu shows Sookie and all the females in the complex. The fact that Quan-ji has given birth is a bad omen.

            “But it’s too soon. She was not due for another three months,” he argues.

            “Yes.”

            He reaches out through the bond, pushing on it to get Sookie’s attention.

            “Did the child live?” he ventures.

            “So far, yes.”

            He feels Sookie open the bond a bit and now he can really sense her distress. No matter how unhappy they may be, and at odds with each other, her pain is still his own.

            _‘Quan-ji gave birth?’_ he sends.

 _‘Oh Eric! It’s terrible! She went into premature labor and there was nothing anyone could do! The baby was only 29 weeks along!’_ he hears her cry.

            He suppresses the urge to run to her side to offer comfort, opting instead to nod to the Cossack and make a calm retreat.

            “Good night to you,” he says.

            Sergei’s lips twitch but fall short of a knowing smile, which is good because Eric is wearing his sword tonight and it would be unfortunate for him to have to use it.

            “Good night, Viking.”

            He turns on his heel and makes his way to the stairs that will lead him down from the roof. He waits until he is behind a closed door before taking off at a run, gritting his teeth at the discomfort coming from his mate. Now that the bond is open between them, he can feel Sookie’s physical condition and she aches all over. Her ankles are swollen, her breasts and abdomen are sore, and her lower back is killing her. It’s no wonder she does not want to have sex when she is feeling so poorly.

            He had no idea how much of an ordeal pregnancy was for the woman until now. The back pain alone could cripple most men, and yet women seem to handle the agony with little more than a strained smile. His respect for the resiliency of the “weaker” sex has increased tenfold in the last six weeks.

            _‘Tell me everything!’_ he demands, taking the stairs a flight at a time. The complex is only two stories high above ground, but it goes down four floors beneath.

            _‘I don’t know what happened. We were all sitting together at lunch and all of a sudden her water broke. She told us afterwards that she’d been having pains, but of course she didn’t say anything to anyone about it!’_

            He scowls. The relationship between the Chinese vampire and his bonded is very different than the one he shares with Sookie. Quan-ji is no more than eighteen and completely in the thrall of her vampire. There is no love between them, and she serves her mate as if she were a concubine or a well-educated slave. The relationship disturbs Sookie, but witnessing it has made her appreciate the strength and equality of the bond they have.

            _‘And the child?’_ he asks.

_‘She’s still alive. They have her in the neo-natal unit.’_

_‘Quan-ji had a girl?’_

_‘Yes.’_

_‘Does Tsun-Zhu know?’_

            He doubts Tsun-Zhu will be happy the baby is a girl. He remembers hearing something about a decision on the part of the doctors not to sex the fetus for fear that the Chinese vampire would want to abort a female. It happens far more often than anyone would want to admit, and it happened post-birth much more regularly in the past. Infanticide to get rid of girls was common in Asia and the Middle East well into the modern age.

_‘I don’t think so. He hasn’t been in to see Quan yet. Bastard has to know she gave birth. He has to feel it if their bond is worth anything.’_

            He grunts an assent even if he is still too far away for Sookie to hear him, and pushes open a set of double doors that lead to the infirmary. The medical areas of the base are considered “neutral ground,” so he enters without being challenged by anyone and finds his way to Sookie’s side.

            The smell of blood, and other bodily fluids he has come to associate with birth, is almost overwhelming as he enters a stark room outfitted with a narrow hospital bed and medical monitoring equipment. Four women are crowded in the small space, and Saroyah has taken up the guard position just inside the door. He fills the entryway with his huge frame as he takes in the scene before him.

            Quan-ji is in the bed looking paler and smaller than ever, and the sight of her reminds him so much of Mai-Pei. The young Asian girl has the same black hair, dark eyes, and tiny hands as his father’s concubine, and she looks swallowed whole by the white sheets and tubes of IVs surrounding her.

            _‘A lily in the snow…’_ he remembers, and a twinge of pain touches him because he knows too well how it will end for her.

            Sookie is seated by the bed. She is holding Quan’s hand in a comforting manner, but she turns her head to see him as he comes in. She knew he was coming well before he arrived, but seeing each other for the first time each night is still an emotional moment for them. Her eyes belay her worry and unhappiness, and he sends her love and comfort through the bond. It earns him a little apologetic smile.

            The other two women in the room are Maxine and Catherine. Maxine is seated to Sookie’s left, and she is the pregnant bonded of Franco DiMartinis, a very young vampire in the employ of the King of New York and New Jersey. Even though DiMartinis is barely 100 years old, he is a ruthless enforcer with ties to the Mafia. A gangster muscleman in life, he remains one in death, and Eric does not trust him a whit. Maxine is little better as she is every stereotype associated with a Southern Jersey girl, complete with a skintight maternity minidress, large hoop earrings, and long, fake nails. Eric half expects her to be chewing gum and twirling her dark, curly hair around her fingers.

            Catherine is seated on the other side of the hospital bed, holding Quan-ji’s other hand. She is the mate of Steven Chancery. She, too, is carrying twins, and she and Sookie are good friends. The woman is stout English stock, a no-nonsense matron who was chosen less for her looks than her disposition, and her bonded is a 600-yr old vampire who was turned during the civil wars that ripped England apart in the late-1400s.

            Eric knows Steven well and likes him. Of all the bonded pairs in this insufferable place, Steven and Catherine’s relationship most closely matches his own, and that is probably why their two mates are so close – that and the ordeal of carrying multiples. A twin pregnancy poses a whole host of challenges a woman carrying only one child does not face.

            Josephine, Sergei’s bonded, is not present, but she mostly keeps to herself anyway. She is stoic and distant like her mate.

            “Hey Hot Stuff,” Maxine greets with a wide smile on her garishly painted lips, and he notes that she **_is_** chewing gum.

            He scowls and does not answer her as he moves to Sookie’s side and places a gentle hand on her shoulder. Sookie reaches up with the hand that is not holding Quan-ji’s and threads her fingers into his. Now that they are touching, he can shunt some of her pain into himself and alleviate the worst of it. She sighs and relaxes against him.

            _‘Thank you,’_ she sends.

_‘Anything for you, my lover.’_

            None of the others know about the telepathy they share or the fact that their unborn children carry the gift, but they do know the unprecedented strength of his and Sookie’s bond so his mate’s relief goes unremarked.

            No one says anything for several moments. Although the Chinese girl in the bed holds Sookie’s hand, he can see that her mind is elsewhere, and it is not in a good place.

            _‘She says she gave birth to a slave,’_ Sookie tells him sadly.

            He lets out a small huff and tightens his grip on her shoulder reassuringly. _‘In Tsun-Zhu’s mind girls are worth far less than boys.’_

 _‘But not to you? You’ll love Adele as much as Agnarr?’_ she asks worriedly.

            He wants to scold her, but he doesn’t. Her insecurity has much more to do with their uncomfortable situation and her own hormones than anything else. She is feeling very vulnerable and exposed, and he hurries to reassure her.

            _‘You know this to be true,’_ he chides gently.

            The fingers threaded into his squeeze lightly in apology. _‘I’m sorry. You’re right. I do know.’_

            She slides her hand from his and rubs her womb. Neither little one moves much anymore because space inside their mother is tight. They are tolerating their cramped quarters about as well as their parents, which is to say, not very well at all. Half of Sookie’s pain stems from the twins jostling around for more room, and there have been sibling squabbles already as one inadvertently (or maybe not so inadvertently) kicks or pokes the other. And yet, even in the womb, the first thing they do when there is trouble is huddle together so tightly they would be seen as one very large infant on an ultrasound. One with two heartbeats, of course, but it would be nearly impossible to discern one from the other.

            They are pressed together now, their minds silent as they stay very still. There is danger brewing, and they already know not to interfere. It is more proof that his children are extraordinary. The tense silence in the room is broken by Maxine uncrossing her legs and getting to her feet. The idiot is still wearing heels so she wobbles a bit, but he makes no move to steady her when she nearly trips.

            “Frankie’s calling me,” she announces, making her way towards the door.

            The fact that Franco has Called his bonded can only mean one thing: Tsun-Zhu is on his way down. Eric looks at Catherine who meets his gaze with a steady stare. She isn’t moving, and Steven knows better than to call his mate like a dog to heel.

            “It’s going to be alright, dearie,” Catherine tells Quan-ji in a matronly, British voice.

            Quan-ji shakes her head ever so slightly. “No. I have failed him.”

            “You’ve done no such thing,” the English woman assures her. “You brought that baby girl into the world alive. That should be good enough for him.”

            “She is only a slave. Not worth mentioning,” the Chinese girl whispers, and he can hear the echo of Tsun-Zhu’s voice in her words.

            “If he was so worried about the sex of the baby, then he should have insisted that they implant you with only male embryos,” Sookie counters, keeping her voice gentle even though he can feel her anger and disgust in the bond.

            “They were supposed to,” the girl in the bed replies.

            “Well, obviously someone didn’t get the message,” Catherine states.

            “He wanted a son. Girls are worthless,” Quan-ji repeats.

            Saroyah lets out a derisive snort at this, and he casts a glance at the Britlingen. Any one of the female interdimensional warriors patrolling the base could give a vampire even his age a run for his money in a fight. Tsun-Zhu’s prejudice, and age, are showing and they’re not earning him any friends.

            “Well, he’s just going to have to deal,” Sookie says firmly. “I’ve seen lots of Kung-Fu movies. Girls can fight just as well as men, and be just as strong. Remind him about Mulan. She was a woman, and she saved China.”

            “Mulan is a fairytale and a Disney film,” Quan-ji answers in a dull voice.

            He senses the Chinese vampire’s approach, and he stills his face into a neutral mask, preparing himself for the possibility of trouble. By all rights, he should not be in the room with another vampire’s bonded, but Sookie’s presence negates all protocols. He is by his mate’s side, and he is allowed to be wherever she is. Still he mentally catalogs the weapons he has on his body, just in case. In addition to the large sword strapped to his hip, he has several knives and stakes tucked into his pants, boots, shirtsleeves and pockets. He also has a very small, razor-sharp blade no bigger than an awl and his trusty toothpick thrust into the 5th pocket of his black jeans. If Tsun-Zhu decides that he wants a fight, he’s going to get one.

            “Eric?” Sookie asks him, and he looks at her, not knowing what she expects of him.

            If Tsun-Zhu believes that both Quan-ji and the infant should die, there is little he can do. He doesn’t want to admit that to his mate because he knows what she will say, but the fact remains that, under vampire law, the girl and the child belong to the vampire, and their lives are his to do with as he sees fit. There is some recourse under human law, and he is sure that Quan-ji could seek protection should she fear for her life, but he doubts she has the will to go against her master, even if her child’s life is at stake.

            His silence angers Sookie and she frowns at him.

_‘Eric, say something!’_

_‘What would you have me say? You know she belongs to him, and she will allow him to do whatever he wants. She is in his thrall,’_ he replies harshly, irritated that she would put him in such a position.

            She knows he speaks the truth and her wince proves it, but she is too proud and stubborn to give in.

            “I am sure it will be alright,” his mate tells the quietly sobbing girl, but it’s a useless platitude, and they both know it.

            Anything further Sookie may have said is cut off by the arrival of the vampire in question. Tsun-Zhu is a good eight inches shorter than Eric, but he still cuts a formidable figure. The glare of his disapproval makes him even more menacing.

            “All of this trouble for a girl,” the Chinese vampire growls through gritted teeth and extended fangs.

            “I am sorry, Master,” Quan-ji apologizes.

            “You have failed me, woman.”

            “Now see here, you,” Catherine scolds. “In case you missed your biology classes, you ought to know it’s your wigglies that decide the sex of the babe. Maybe it’s your problem if there’s no stem on the apple.”

            “Silence!” Tsun-Zhu orders, but the woman barely flinches. Steven chose her for her “stones,” and like Sookie, she can be as stubborn as a she-bear. Steven once admitted to Eric that he knows Catherine is not much to look at, but that he would rather have “an English oak than a weeping willow.”

            “Don’t you dare take that tone with me,” Catherine snaps back. “That might work with your little wilting flower here, but I’ve been around the block a time or two and I don’t scare easily.”

            Oh yes, she and Sookie are cut from the same cloth, only in his case Sookie’s a cypress with roots digging down and anchoring her to an often unstable soil.

            He tenses as Tsun-Zhu rounds on Catherine, ready to interfere if needed. The woman is Sookie’s friend, and she is carrying two little ones, and she belongs to another vampire. If Tsun-Zhu were to harm her…

            “Oi, mate, I dare say I must be imagining that you are threatening my wife,” a calm, cool English voice says from the doorway.

            Steven is there, leaning against the doorjam casually, but Eric can tell he’s ready to pounce. He steps up a bit, adding his silent support to the English vampire and meeting Tsun-Zhu’s glare steadily.

            “She is willful,” the Chinese vampire states.

            “And I like her that way. She has to have stones to put up with me. Besides all the fawning and simpering gets a might tiresome after a few centuries, don’t you agree Northman?”

            There is a glint in Steven’s brown eyes that almost makes Eric smile. “Oh yes. I’d rather a woman who engages me than one who bows to my every whim,” he replies blithely.

            “Barbarians, both of you,” Tsun-Zhu sneers.

            Steven grins, showing a bit of fang, and pushes off the doorjam to approach his mate. “Hallo, dearest. What’s say we give these two a bit o’ privacy? Besides, it’s almost time for your weekly check-up, and we wouldn’t want to keep the nice doctor waiting, hm?”

            “I suppose you’re right, dear,” the woman agrees, and pushes herself to her feet with a groan. She’s only seven months along, but she’s already almost as heavy as Sookie is at over eight. Her mate helps her by giving her a steadying arm. “I’ll see you tomorrow poppet,” she adds to Quan-ji, patting her on the arm.

            _‘We should go too,’_ he tells Sookie, giving her shoulder a little squeeze.

            _‘Why? I don’t have a doctor’s appointment,’_ she argues.

_‘Because it’s actually safer for Quan-ji if we are not here. If we stay, Tsun-Zhu might feel he has to make a point, and it’s one I don’t think either of us want him to make.’_

            She glances up at him and he raises one eyebrow.

            “Shall we?” he prompts.

            She frowns, clearly not convinced that leaving the girl alone with the Chinese vampire is a good thing, but eventually she chooses to trust him and offers him her arm.

            _‘Thank you,’_ he says, helping her rise to her feet. She grunts as she rises, her joints aching from the effort and the weight.

            “Oooff,” she gasps as he steadies her. “I’ll see you tomorrow too, sweetie,” she adds to Quan-ji.

            Quan-ji does not answer, but only has eyes for her bonded who is not looking pleased. He wonders if there is any hope for her or the premature infant, but he keeps those thoughts to himself.

            As they leave the room – Saroyah close behind – he meets Steven in the hallway, and the English vampire gives him a look. He nods and ushers Sookie over to Catherine.

            “Why don’t you go with your friend, my lover?” he suggests.

            It appears that she might argue, but both she and Catherine then look at him and Steven with knowing eyes. Saroyah does too, her gaze assessing and approving.

            “Come along, luv,” Catherine says, taking Sookie’s arm. “You can help me get into that bloody hospital gown. Lord knows, I don’t think I can reach around to tie it anymore. How do you stay so thin?”

            “Thin?” Sookie snorts, walking down the hall with Saroyah and her friend. “I’m not thin. I’m as big as a house.”

            “If you’re a house, I’m Buckingham Palace,” the woman quips making Sookie laugh.

            He smiles too, then lets the smile fade from his lips as he turns to Steven, and Steven makes a head motion towards the room where Tsun-Zhu is still with his bonded. The message is clear: “I will stay and keep watch.” He nods gravely. If they interfere there will be consequences, but they cannot allow Tsun-Zhu to kill his mate in this complex. The humans will not like it, and getting out is as difficult as getting in. He has a few escape plans he can use as a last resort, but even flying out under his own power while carrying Sookie has its drawbacks. There is nothing within hundreds of miles and the night is short this time of year. The number of places he could get them to before dawn is limited, and even if Elena’s ring is new, he does not want to test its strength and endurance under the blistering desert sun.

            With Steven in position to help the girl, he heads to the neo-natal area where the newborn ought to be. This base wasn’t originally designed with a maternity ward in mind, but it’s been retrofitted with the latest equipment needed to care for little ones. The guard at the heavy double doors leading to the nursery is easily glamoured, and he passes through without so much as a whisper. His sense of smell leads him immediately to a temperature-controlled room full of monitoring devices and medical equipment all positioned around a clear plastic box. The box has holes in the sides where someone can slide his or her hand into an attached glove, and inside the box is the tiniest infant he has ever seen.

            Almost completely obscured by wires and a facemask, the little one is smaller than his hand, and her entire thigh is about the length of his thumb. He stands beside her box and stares at her in wonder. A month ago, this is what his children would have looked like in the womb. Now at nearly 37 weeks, they are much larger and more developed than this poor soul. Her skin is reddish, as if someone has left her out in the sun, and the color is a stark contrast against the white coverings in the incubator and the white diaper on her small body. He can’t see her face, but she has a soft cap of black hair on her head.

_‘By the gods… so small…’_

            He can’t tell what the numerous readouts on the monitors mean, but he can hear the fast hammering of her tiny heart beating out its defiance to the world. He slips one hand into a glove and touches her tiny fist with his finger. She reflexively tries to close her fingers around his, but she can barely grip his knuckle, then she turns her head towards him. Their eyes meet, his blue to her black, and something in him moves.

            He can’t say what it is, maybe it is because he is about to become a father himself, maybe it is his mate’s influence bringing out the humanity in him, maybe it’s because he has always protected helpless things. Whatever the reason, when he hears and feels the approach of an angry vampire, he reflexively draws his sword and meets an enraged Tsun-Zhu at blade point.

            “What is the meaning of this?” the Chinese vampire demands.

            He does not answer, merely bares his fangs and lifts the tip of his sword higher. Tsun-Zhu growls and drops his fangs, snarling.

            “This child is mine. It’s life is mine to do with as I see fit,” his opponent insists.

            “No,” he replies firmly.

            As if to back him up, two nurses, one Britlingen, and six heavily armed soldiers come running to the neo-natal ward.

            “What is happening! What are you doing?!” one of the nurses shrieks.

            “Sir, put your weapon down!” one soldier orders, leveling a gun at him. It probably has silver bullets, good thing he is immune to silver.

            “If I do that, he will kill this child,” he states calmly, not moving a hair from his position.

            “It is a slave, not worth the air it breathes or the money I have wasted,” Tsun-Zhu hisses.

            “The child lives,” he replies.

            “Sir, that is your daughter!” the other nurse cries in horror.

            “I was promised a son. The woman will bear me another child and give me a boy,” Tsun-Zhu snaps back. “This one is of no value to me.”

            “The humans here would disagree,” he answers.

            “Would you really risk your position and your life for a girl?” Tsun-Zhu asks with a hint of disbelief.

            “That’s only if I lose, and I am not one for losing.”

            Tsun-Zhu growls, but backs down. “Fine. But this one is dead to me. I disavow all responsibility for it. Drown it for all I care. Or maybe you can take it, Viking, since you seem so fond of human females.”

            The Chinese vampire sneers at him and backs away, but he has no illusions that the danger is over. Tsun-Zhu will not let such an insult go, nor will he give up so easily. It is a common ploy among the Asian vampires to appear to concede when they are really just regrouping. He does not lower his sword until he deems that the threat is far enough away.

            “Would he really have killed her?” one nurse asks him.

            He looks at her with calm eye. “Oh yes. And the danger has not passed. This child should be kept under heavy guard. Do you have a next of kin for Quan-ji?”

            The nurse reaches over to the end of the plastic box to retrieve a clipboard. While she is reading the information there, the Britlingen – after giving him a respectful nod and an approving smile – and four of the soldiers retreat, but two of the soldiers remain to act as guards.

            “Yes, a sister in Tacoma, Washington,” the nurse replies.

            “You should call her, although I do not know if it will be safe to send the child into Tsun-Zhu’s territory. He could kill her with impunity then.”

            “Won’t her mother want her?”

            “The woman is in the thrall of her bonded. She will not defy him.”

            “I can’t believe this is happening!” the other nurse complains. “This is the twenty-first century!”

            He shrugs and re-sheaths his sword. “Some vampires never adapt to the modern times. They are not very forward thinking.”

            “What should we do?” the nurse asks.

            “Can she be moved?” he questions.

            The woman shakes her head. Her nametag reads: Gherner. “No. She still needs the CPAP machine to help her breathe, and we’re putting her under phototherapy for jaundice. We’re still evaluating her for any other health issues.”

            “Besides, she only weighs 2 pounds,” the second nurse says. This one’s tag reads: Maybry.

            He nods gravely, looking at the tiny one in the plastic box. The sight makes his undead heart spasm.

 _‘Live. Live, Little One. Live and grow strong,’_ he sends, then turns to the nurses, “Watch her. If you need anything, come find me.”

            “Yes, Mr. Northman, and thank you. If you hadn’t been here…” Nurse Gherner begins, but then trails off, her eyes on the child.

            He grunts softly. “Keep vigilant. This isn’t over yet,” he warns as he stalks out of the room.

            He must find Sookie and make sure she is safe. He doubts Tsun-Zhu will go after her, but he can’t be too careful.

            _‘What is it? What’s happened?’_ his mate’s mindvoice asks, laced with worry.

            _‘Tsun-Zhu tried to kill the child.’_

            There is a moment of shocked silence, then, _‘Oh my god. I am assuming you stopped him.’_

_‘For now, yes, but he will probably try again.’_

_‘We have to stop him, Eric!’_

            He sends calm through the bond. _‘She is under guard, and they know to be wary of him now. I am more worried about the girl and you.’_

_‘Me? I’m fine. If he tries anything before you get here, Saroyah will kick his ass.’_

            He smiles at her fearlessness. _‘Of course, my lover, but all the same, be careful and tell Saroyah to be watchful. I will be there shortly._

_‘Okay. We’re back in our room. Catherine’s appointment went fine. She went back to her quarters with Steven.’_

_‘I am glad all is well.’_

            He moves quickly, taking the stairs instead of the elevator up to the top floor where he and Sookie keep their rooms. He insisted on quarters that have direct access to the roof just in case he does need to fly out of here with her. He forgoes the elevator because it would be too easy to trap him in the damn box, and soon he is exiting the stairwell to head down the corridor to their rooms. Saroyah meets him at the door, opening it before he even has a chance to announce his presence, and he steps into their quarters with one hand on the hilt of his sword. Sookie hurries to him as quickly as her condition will allow, but he stops her and urges her to lie down on the couch with her feet up.

            “Tell me everything!” she demands.

            He complies, recounting how he had gone to see the child and had ended up defending her.

            “Oh my god! Would he actually have killed a defenseless baby girl?” his mate gasps.

            “To him she is nothing. She is barely human. Vampires from his time place almost no value on women. You know this, my lover. I told you.”

            She snorts and glares, but she knows her ire is not directed at him. “You told me he had “outdated views” and refused to modernize himself.”

            He nods. “Exactly.”

            “But what you’re saying isn’t just a vamp thing, it’s a Chinese thing.”

            “From his time, yes. Women were cattle used to do the work and breed sons.”

            “That’s disgusting,” she complains.

            He shrugs. “There were worse things. They were expected to commit suicide to avoid being raped.”

            He sees her blanch and shudder, but Saryoah catches his eye, and he sees her nod gravely. She’s been uncharacteristically quiet these last few weeks. It is probably the close proximity of so many of her kind. Britlingens are not known for being chatty, but this one had been what amounted to almost friendly. Now the stoic, stern silence so noted in her species is back, and he knows Sookie misses her friendlier disposition. His wife needs Saroyah to distract her from the alienation and mounting frustration she is feeling. Catherine is a good friend, but she is not someone who understands what Sookie was forced to leave behind.

            “That makes me feel so much better. So what now? We’re not going to let him kill a helpless baby, are we?” his wife says.

            “The child is under heavy protection, and I have warned the staff that relocating her to a secure location off this base would be a wise course of action,” he replies.

            “You and I both know that unless a vamp or a Britlingen is guarding her, she doesn’t have a chance if Tsun-Zhu decides to go after her again,” she answers.

            He nods in agreement. “Which is why I feel the safest thing for her is to get her out of here as soon as possible.”

            “A child that premature cannot be moved,” Saroyah points-out. “She is barely breathing on her own, and she is still in great danger even with all of your advanced medical equipment.”

            “So I have been led to believe.”

            “You also know that you are in danger. Tsun-Zhu will not let your interference go unanswered,” Saroyah adds.

            He steels his lips into a thin line. “I know, but I think he will find me much harder to kill than he thinks.”

            He manages a strained smile as he looks at his wife and sits beside her, one hand on her womb. Immediately his children gravitate towards his palm. He doesn’t need to ask her how the little ones are, but he does so anyway if only to reach out to her with something they both share.

            “How are our warriors?” he questions teasingly.

            She gives him an annoyed look, the kind that tells him that she’s only putting up with him because she loves him. “You mean our artist and ballet dancer.”

            “One can dance and create art with weapons,” he replies, patting the hilt of his sword. “I am living proof of that.”

            “Living being the inoperative term,” she sniffs haughtily, making him laugh.

            They share a smile and his expression turns loving as he rubs her belly. _‘I love you,’_ he sends.

            Her fingers lace into his own as her eyes soften and he feels her love for him come through their bond. _‘I love you too. I’m so sorry I’ve been…’_

 _‘I’ve suffered much worse,’_ he hurries to assure her. _‘This situation is… hard on both of us.’_

            _‘ **Harder** on you than on me, I’d bet,’_ she replies coyly.

            _‘Only because you are a **hard** -hearted woman.’_

            Saroyah knows the signs and quietly retreats. He has to give the brusque woman credit for her tact, and he has to admit that she’s the best three million dollars he’s ever spent. He silently thanks her, even though she cannot hear his thoughts, and leans towards his mate to kiss her slowly, sensuously, with all the longing and hope he can manage without ravishing her. His hopes raise as he feels her respond to him, her hands coming up to caress his arms, her fingers running along his bicep with appreciation, and he presses even closer.

            His intentions are hampered, unfortunately, by the sudden displeasure and a sharp kick from his children. Being cramped already, the little ones have no tolerance for any additional infringement on their space, and they are quick to react with a jab. The clear outline of a foot appears, pressing out of Sookie’s tight skin, and he can see it distinctly through the soft cotton maternity dress she is wearing. He is all at once amazed, amused and annoyed. The kick is followed by a very clear sending of “back off” from the buzzing of Agnarr’s mind.

            Sookie lets out a little gasp of pain and reluctantly pulls away, her expression apologetic. He shrugs and gives her a little smile.

            _‘One thing I am very much looking forward to is not having this weird ménage-o-four going every time we want to be intimate,’_ she complains, rubbing the spot where their son’s kick hit.

            _‘Quatre,’_ he corrects.

            _‘Quatre?’_

_‘The correct term would be ménage à quatre.’_

_‘Well, lah dee dah Mr. Frenchman. So glad you knew that,_ ’ she snaps peevishly.

            He chuckles and kisses her, then leans down to kiss her belly.

_‘My apologies, my darlings.’_

            The primal minds of his children bubble back annoyance and reconciliation as they move closer to his lips. A hand pushes out, one fist that is already nearly twice the size of the tiny infant down below, and he kisses the bump it makes in Sookie’s flesh. He hears his wife sigh and looks up at her, smiling.

            _‘You are a miracle,’_ he says to her.

            She shakes her head, the bond full of love. _‘No. **You** are.’_

            He sits up, tossing his long hair over his shoulder as he gives her a wink. _‘Well, that goes without saying.’_

            She snorts and rolls her eyes as she pushes him away _. ‘Right. Shoo. Get out of here. Pregnant lady needs her rest.’_

            He laughs and pats her leg gently. _‘I’m going to go make another round. Do you want me to bring you anything to eat when I return?’_

            She considers his offer a moment, then nods. “Yeah. Catherine made Bangers and Mash for lunch today. I could go for more of that… if there’s any left.”

            He holds back a chuckle at Sookie’s casual reference to the English food. Catherine is by all accounts an excellent cook, and Sookie reaps the benefits of the matron’s talents. “Down in the mess hall?” he asks.

            “Yeah, in the big fridge.”

            “I’ll be sure to look. If there is some left, I will bring it to you.”

            “Thanks, baby. You’re too good to me.”

            He kisses her, then quickly stands and backs away so he will be out of range from her swat. “That also goes without saying. I’ll be back soon.”

            She looks longingly at him from her spot on the couch. “I love you.”

            “And I love you, my lover.”

            “Be careful out there, okay?”

            “Always. There is no need to worry about me. You rest. I will bring back food for you.”

            With a final smile and a rush of love, he leaves their quarters and heads up to the roof. The night is still young and the 9th Desert Rangers are still “hooting to each other” out along the perimeter. He finds the sounds comforting for some odd reason, reminding him of bygone days when he sat by a fire on the edge of a battlefield, waiting for dawn and the bloodshed to begin. He can hear the creaking of armor and the scraping of whetting stones on sharp blades. The men gossip amongst themselves, sharing meager rations and wood fires, while he sits alone, facing East, the next day’s battle plan playing in his mind.

            “Have you heard the Queen of this land is a demon witch?” one soldier whispers across time.

            “Shut up, Gunn. There’s no such thing. Just stupid tales meant to scare real monsters like us away,” his comrade scoffs, an echo of a life long left behind.

            Eric bows his head slightly. The gossip had been truer than he’d ever imagined, and he would find out soon enough at the end of the battle. His men dead, his brothers cut down like dogs, his brilliant strategies torn to pieces. All that had been left for him was death, and that was stolen from him too.

            Shaking off the darker memories of his last days as a human man, he scans the area before him and brings his mind back to the present. The roof is empty, but he is on full alert as he patrols his area, and it is the slightest tingle from his honed 6th sense for danger that gives him a warning just before he hears the rush of air from a cutting blade. He whirls, drawing his sword, and the clash of steel sends sparks ricocheting off the metal. Tsun-Zhu is there, his face enraged as Eric parries another strike.

            “I don’t recall giving you permission to enter my Area,” Eric states calmly, even as he wards off more blows.

            “Mongrel barbarian, I go where I please,” the Chinese vampire sneers, then attacks with zeal.

            It is soon obvious that Tsun-Zhu believes himself to be the better swordsman, but Eric recognizes the type of sword his opponent uses, and he knows its sword form well. Made for chopping down an enemy at close range, the sword is straight until the final one-quarter of the blade where it begins to curve slightly. The design was favored in the Ming Dynasty, but lost popularity a few decades after the Qing Dynasty began. The very fact that Tsun-Zhu has not “upgraded” to a more advanced weapon tells Eric a great deal about his fighting style.

            He matches the Chinese vampire blow for blow as they cross the roof in a fury of singing steel and flying sparks. He loves it, loves the unfettered violence of it, and he needs the fight to keep his own sanity. Briefly he wonders if Tsun-Zhu has been brought to the same level. Five powerful vampires with pregnant mates, all shoved into a confined area and kept under guard. It’s amazing that serious bloodshed has not occurred way before this.

            But who says you can’t make art and dance with a blade? Is that not what he and his opponent are doing as they spin around each other, each trying to get the upper hand? Is their dance not graceful and beautiful because it so deadly? It takes a lover of battle and steel to appreciate the complex forms and moves they engage in, the almost perfectly choreographed warfare in a bottle.

            By now they have an audience. The other vampires are drawn by the scent of blood and battle, and the Britlingens are not far behind. It does not take long before their dance is ringed with a crowd of observers all doing their best to keep out of harm’s way. The buzzing of the human soldiers’ thoughts, many of whom have never seen a vampire move with his true strength and speed, are an unwelcome distraction so he puts up shields to block them out. He cannot block the frantic thoughts of his bonded, however, as he senses her coming up to the rooftop.

            **_“Eric!”_** he hears her cry, both mentally and verbally, but he is too far gone into the bloodlust to acknowledge her, plus the added factor of her close proximity has only made him fight harder because now she could be in danger. Idiot woman should have stayed below.

            Her fear and upset are upsetting the babies inside her, and he can feel their distress as well. The part of his brain that is still rational flashes back to the tiny infant in the plastic box, and he worries that this stressor will trigger premature labor. Sookie is so close to her due date that anything could make her go early, and he does not want that to happen. She has three short weeks left before their little ones are ready to come out, and he made a promise that he would do everything in his power to make sure nothing happened to them beforehand. He has no desire to see his son and daughter languishing in plastic boxes with masks covering their tiny faces because they cannot breathe on their own.

            To that end, he knows he must finish this fight and soon. He’s been playing with Tsun-Zhu, letting him keep the upper hand to make him think he holds an advantage, but Eric knows the Chinese vampire is outmatched. Even with the long sword and the short dao sword his opponent has pulled out, Tsun-Zhu still has yet to land any crippling blows or direct strikes. Eric is too quick, too intuitive. He knows the sword form better than the vampire who grew up practicing it, but that is because Eric is a warrior who loves the art of the blade and Tsun-Zhu has never been an avid fan.

            Unfortunately, Tsun-Zhu’s skill is enough to keep the fight going for a while longer if something doesn’t give soon, and Eric has to make a quick decision on how best to end the battle. He already knows that he will kill the other vampire - that was a given from the moment his opponent tried to ambush him – but the method of his death is still undecided. Because Tsun-Zhu attacked him unprovoked, any inquiry into their confrontation will find his actions justified, so he does not fear reprisal from the Chinese vampire’s King. He does fear, however, that Tsun-Zhu may seek to involve the spectators if Eric begins to press harder on him, and then Sookie or another one of the humans on the roof could get hurt. No, he must keep his enemy’s attention on him and make him think he is winning. It will make Tsun-Zhu let his guard down so he will be completely unsuspecting Eric’s attack when it comes.

            During a heated exchange of thrusts and parries, he lets Tsun-Zhu swipe the sword from his hands, pretending to be disarmed when in reality he reaches into the pocket of his jeans and retrieves the small, sharp knife and the toothpick from their hiding places. Then he veers out of the way when his opponent attacks and comes at Tsun-Zhu from behind. If Tsun-Zhu follows the predictable pattern of fighting he has engaged in so far, Eric knows he will not bother to turn around, but will merely thrust both of his swords underneath his arms.

            Eric is ready for the attack, but instead of avoiding the sharp weapons, he allows them to puncture his body. Neither blade is silver or wood, and he has a very high tolerance for pain, so the wounds do not deter him as he steps forward, further onto the steel. The longsword skewers his kidney while the dao shortsword punctures him somewhere in the vicinity of his liver. He hears the gasps and cries of distress from the onlookers, including Sookie’s mental scream, but he does not relent. Using the sharp knife in his left hand, he makes a swift, clean strike and slices Tsun-Zhu’s back between his left shoulder blade and his spine. The razor sharp blade cuts right through the gold and red silk tunic the Chinese vampire is wearing and flays away the skin in one move.

            Before Tsun-Zhu can react to the sudden pain in his back, Eric plunges his right hand into the wound, smashing through the base of the ribs to reach the aorta. The large artery is closest to the surface there and access to it is the most expedient from the rear. Once his fist breaks the ribs, he thrusts the toothpick directly into Tsun-Zhu’s heart and twists to make sure it goes in. He can almost feel the other vampire’s shock as he realizes what has happened, but he cannot see Tsun-Zhu’s face just yet.

            The blades impaling his torso go slack, and he pushes Tsun-Zhu’s body forward. The swords slide out with a wet sucking sound as his opponent collapses to the rooftop and rolls to face him, his black eyes wide with surprise. He leers down at his dying foe, ignoring the blood pouring from his own wounds. He’ll heal while his enemy will not, and he watches with satisfaction as Tsun-Zhu begins to disintegrate. It is even worth losing the toothpick somewhere in the gloppy mess that was once a vampire.

            His gloating victory is short-lived, however, when an anguished scream cuts through the night, and he turns his head to see Quan-ji, dressed in nothing but a thin, blue hospital gown, running across the roof. At some point during his and Tsun-Zhu’s fight, she must have left her birthing bed and come up to the roof. Now the bond between the girl and her vampire mate has been broken, and the backlash has sent a shockwave through the severed tie.

            “Stop her!” he yells, but it is too late.

            Tsun-Zhu’s blood has given her strength and speed enough to evade the hands that try to grab her, and they watch in horror as she throws herself off the edge headfirst. Had he been less injured, he could have flown down to catch her, but as it is the only other vampire there who can fly is Sergei, and he cares nothing if the girl dies. She hangs, weightless, in the air for one moment before her body plummets to earth. She does not even scream as she falls. He hears the impact and knows it is fatal.

            The crowd gathers at the ledge to look down, and he follows. Sookie is sobbing, reaching out to grab Saroyah’s arm for support as the tears run down her face. He feels her grief, but he cannot embrace or ease it. He knew that it would end like this the moment Tsun-Zhu attacked him, because the Chinese vampire’s hold on his human pet was too strong for the frail girl to survive her bonded’s death. If anything, her suicide is a release.

            He stares at the crumpled body on the hard ground below, and he is painfully reminded of another China doll who shared a similar fate – both victims of a cruel world who saw them only as commodities and a means to an end. He can almost imagine that it is Mai-Pei lying there, broken and still, and he feels a tiny twinge of regret.

            _‘A lily in the snow,’_ he thinks as he watches her blood stain the tawny desert sand.


	16. Chapter 16

Chapter Sixteen

 

            Maxine won’t stop screaming, and she’s giving Sookie a headache of Viking proportions. The shrill screeching is finding her spine and raking down it like nails on a chalkboard, and she just wants to reach out and slap the girl unconscious because then she’d shut up. She is getting ready to do just that, channeling her Norse husband’s tempered rage, when Catherine’s bonded, Steven, comes striding in to glamour the wailing woman before she screams herself into premature labor.

            “Now luv, look at me. That’s a good girl. Yes, just look into my eyes and all of this will go away,” the English vampire cajoles. “Just like that. You’re getting tired and you want to sleep.”

            “No. I can’t. Frankie…”

            “Your bonded is fine. Frankie will heal. There’s no damage done.”

            “But…”

            Sookie can see Maxine trying to fight the glamour, but Steven is almost as old as Eric, and he’s very good with the vamp hypnosis. She hears him make a soft crooning noise right before Maxine closes her eyes and begins to slump over. Steven catches her and lowers her gently to the tile floor. The medical staff takes it from there, rushing over with a gurney to whisk the unconscious woman down to the maternity ward to make sure both she and her unborn child are okay. Given that Maxine has just spent the last twenty minutes in a full panicked rage – throwing whatever she could get her hands on, including a metal bedpan that hit an orderly in the head, and screaming for everyone to stay away from her – it’s possible that she may have done some damage to herself or her baby.

            Sookie breathes a sigh of relief as Maxine is carted away, and she casts a glance to Catherine who gives her a small smile. There is a relief on Cathy’s face as well, but the lines of tension are still creasing the corners of her eyes. The situation is precarious, and Sookie knows that things can go south very quickly. She looks to Saroyah for reassurance since Eric is, presumably, with Franco, but the Britlingen still has one hand on her knife and she is standing at the ready with her eyes fixed on the closed door. Her bodyguard’s stance offers no comfort, nor do the pulses of Eric’s anger coming across the bond.

            She reaches down inside herself to find calm so that Eric will calm down too. In her womb, Agnarr and Adele are moving around, reacting to their mother’s upset and fear, and she needs to relax so they will settle down. She rubs her abdomen in large circles, humming the way Eric always does when he sings to the twins, and the sound is comforting to both her and the babies. She hears Catherine speaking softly to her mate.

            “Is it over?” the English woman asks.

            “For now, luv, but it’s only going to get worse,” Steven replies.

            “Will Franco be alright?”

            “In time. Sergei ripped off both of his arms, but Eric was able to reattach them.”

            “How are Josephine and the baby?”

            “Both are fine as far as I can tell, but I don’t dare try to get anywhere near the maternity ward.”

            That was what caused all of this drama in the first place. Sergei’s bonded, Josephine, gave birth to a baby boy today. Right on time, give or take a day or two, since Josephine took right away so her pregnancy was further along than Sookie’s. She gave birth, and the moment her mate rose for the night, he went berserk. Any vampire or Supe that tried to get close to the maternity ward was attacked with a vengeance, and Franco was escorting Maxine to an appointment when Sergei came at him.

            The vampires got into a battle worthy of Ultimate Fighter, and two Marines and a nurse were injured when they tried to intervene. Sookie and the other wives were gathered up and put in a waiting room under heavy guard for their own protection while Steven and Eric went to try to handle the situation. Franco lost, obviously, when the Cossack tore off his limbs, but he survived, and, if what Steven just told Catherine is true, Eric had a hand in helping Franco recover from his injuries. She isn’t sure how she feels about that because Franco is not her most favorite vampire in the world, and Maxine is irritating even on her best days, but Sookie prides herself in not wishing anyone any harm no matter how much the other person, or vampire, pisses her off.

            She feels Eric getting closer and something inside her that is coiled too tightly begins to relax. That doesn’t last, however, because her husband is in a tizzy when he comes into the room, his eyes blazing and his hands clenched at his sides.

            “I am contacting de Castro. We are not staying here another night,” Eric tells her, his fangs still down. “It’s not safe here anymore.”

            “We knew this would happen,” Steven says, putting his arm around Catherine. “We’re all getting more territorial. To be honest, no matter how much I might like you, old friend, there is no guarantee I won’t try to kill you after the twins are born.”

            “I wouldn’t take it personally,” Eric replies. “I’d probably try to kill you, too, if you got too close to my bonded and newborns.”

            The English vampire nods in understanding.

            Saroyah snorts. “This has been a long time in coming. You vampires and your territorial instincts. It was insanity to bring all of you here.”

            “I could not agree more, but I would point out that Northman and I have shown remarkable restraint these last few days,” Steven counters. “I know I for one have been itching to tear off a few limbs myself.”

            “Limbs? I’ve wanted to rip off at least five heads in the last 48 hours,” Eric says with a frown.

            “True, that. True,” the English vampire agrees.

            Saroyah gives them both a withering glare and turns away.

            “What happened to Sergei? How is Josephine?” Sookie asks, trying not to sound too worried.

            “Josephine and the baby are fine. Sergei has been confined to his Area with a silver-lined door. His mate and newborn son are with him, and he has agreed to allow human female medical staff in to make sure mother and child are healthy, but he has vowed to kill any other vampires, Supes or human males who try to come into his territory,” Eric answers, pacing a bit, one hand sweeping through his long hair.

            “This is only the beginning, and you know it,” she states irritably. “As soon as the babies are born, you’re going to go all Viking vamp, and you’ll make Sergei’s rampage look like a Sunday picnic. Saroyah’s right. It was crazy to bring us all here.”

            She sees Eric pull his lips back to reveal fangs fully down, and she can sense his stress across the bond.

            “In that, my lover, we are in complete agreement,” he almost snarls. “Which is why I am contacting Felipe tonight and telling him we are relocating. I don’t care if he strips me of my Area. I will not have you in the direct line of fire. The next time something like this happens, someone **_will_** get killed, and it will not be you.”

            “This place was designed to protect those within from enemies without. It was not meant to deal with internal threats,” Steven comments. “I do not know what our Kings were thinking when they hatched this plan so to speak.”

            “Bureaucratic idiots!” Eric snaps, pacing again, and she can feel him struggling with the need to kill something. “I tell you, when I am King there will not be any of this stupidity!”

            “When you are King?” Steven says with a raised eyebrow. “Planning a coup, old friend?”

            Eric snorts, but does not stop pacing. “Felipe taxes his subjects nearly to poverty. It is only a matter of time before his States rise up against him. I simply will not help him retain power.”

            “But you don’t want to be King,” she blurts worriedly.

            He rounds on her, eyes blazing. “I am going to be a father. I cannot be someone’s lackey subject to the whim of a petulant despot. If the only way I can gain my freedom – our freedom – is by seizing the throne, so be it. I will not have de Castro lording over me or my family.”

            “You’d best be careful, Northman, such words could be considered treasonous,” Saroyah warns.

            Eric growls and Sookie begins to get very worried because he is not calming down.

            “A good King takes care of his subjects! He sees to their welfare and supports their prosperity! A good King does not demand high tithes, nor does he send his loyal subjects to be slaughtered in a concrete box! There are women and infants here! No matter what the lying historians said, my people did **_not_** kill **_babies!_** ” her husband yells.

            She rubs her belly because Agnarr is reacting to Eric’s upset, his infant brain buzzing with anger. Neither baby thinks in words or color. They have no concept of language or the “outside,” but they transmit their feelings clearly, and her son will definitely take after his father. She needs to redirect both of them before her little linebacker starts practicing his field goals.

            “Where will we go?” she asks softly.

            Eric stops pacing and looks at her. “Where we should have gone in the first place,” he replies.

            She nods, knowing he means Isle Elena, but since the place is an invite-only sanctuary, she does not say its name out loud.

            “What about Mei-hua?” she questions.

            She is referring to the tiny preemie still in the NICU. Eric named the orphan Mei-hua, telling her it meant “beautiful flower,” and he has been overseeing her care. She has to admit that watching him be so attentive and gentle with the baby girl is heartwarming, even if she fears what it would be like to have to raise triplets instead of twins.

            “Will we take her with us?” she continues.

            A flash of regret crosses Eric’s face before he shakes his head. “No. Quan-ji’s next of kin, a sister, I believe, is coming to claim her. She will take the child back to Washington once Mei is strong enough to travel. She is arriving tonight.”

            “Will Mei be safe in Washington?” she questions.

            Eric nods. “Yes, the King has pledged his protection. She is the direct progeny of one of his people even if Tsun-Zhu is dead. Besides, as firstborn she is something of a novelty.”

            He says the last with a sneer.

            She tries to hide her relief at his words, but she knows he feels it. He had wanted Mei-hua, but he was afraid to ask it of her. Having a blood relative claim the baby is the best thing, even if she knows Eric will still keep an eye on her. If her husband is anything, it is loyal, and once someone is under Eric Northman’s protection, he fulfills his duties above and beyond expectations. It is one of the reasons he would make a great King if he ever were to seize Louisiana from Felipe.

            She shivers and hugs herself. She doesn’t want to think about that. The human bonded of a King is something altogether different from the human bonded of a Sheriff.

            “So what do we do now?” she asks.

            “Since Sergei is confined to his Area, it is safe for us to return to ours. I am going to contact Felipe and tell him that it is no longer safe for us to stay here. Based on his answer, I will make the… necessary arrangements,” Eric answers.

            “I am going to call my King as well. I agree that this situation has become intolerable,” Steven says.

            Sookie wants to invite them to Isle Elena because she’s very fond of Catherine, but she worries that the same problem with vampire territorial instincts will happen there too.

            “Where will you go?” she asks her friend.

            “Steven has a stronghold on some ancestral lands in England. We’d been planning to go there before we were ordered here,” Catherine replies.

            She laughs nervously. “I know what you mean. We were twenty-four hours away from getting out of town ourselves when Felipe called.”

            The English woman nods knowingly. “They should have left well enough alone. Bringing all of us here was a disaster waiting to happen.”

            “Well, after what happened to Alex and Michele, I can’t blame them for wanting to keep us all safe,” she comments, shuddering at the memory of poor Michele’s murdered body splashed all over the Internet.

            “The road to Hell is paved with good intentions,” Steven quips and offers his hand to his wife. “Shall we, love?”

            “We shall,” Catherine agrees, taking her bonded’s hand and allowing him to help her to her feet. “If I don’t see you before…” the woman says to Sookie.

            She waves a hand. “Oh I am sure we’ll stay in touch. You have my number, and I’m sure we’ll see each other after the babies are born. I want to meet your two little guys.”

            She knows that the chances of ever seeing Catherine again are slim at best, but she puts on a brave face. Inwardly she thinks that she is tired of losing friends to her crazy, vamp-filled life, and it earns her a gentle, sympathetic look from Eric.

            _‘Come, lover. Let us go up to our rooms. I will call Felipe and then arrange for our transportation to Isle Elena. You have many friends there who are very eager to see you again.’_

            Before she can respond, Catherine hurries forward to hug her as much as both of their heavily pregnant bodies will allow.

            “Don’t you fret, dear. We will see each other again,” Catherine promises, pulling back and placing her hands on Sookie’s womb. She does the same to her friend’s swollen belly, feeling the life within. _‘Bonds like ours cannot be broken any more than the bonds we have with our mates.’_

            She blinks back tears as she smiles and nods. “Yes.”

            “You call me. I want to know the minute those babies are born, and I want pictures,” the English woman says.

            “For sure. The same for me. I want to know when your two are on the ground.”

            “Absolutely. We’ll trade delivery room horror stories.”

            She laughs. “We’ll have to see which of us has the worst tale to tell.”

            “I’m sure we’ll both have good ones.”

            “Yeah.”

            Catherine hugs her again. “Be safe, love. You take care of her, you hear me,” she adds, turning towards Eric.

            “Always,” Eric vows.

            Catherine steps back as Eric steps forward to take Sookie’s arm gently. “Come, lover. There is much we still have to do tonight.”

            “Saroyah can help me pack while you call the King,” she agrees.

            “That sounds like a good thing to do.”

            She waves and smiles to Catherine and Steven as she leaves with Eric. “Take care. Be safe, both of you.”

            “And you. Be safe,” Steven answers.

            Once she, Eric and Saroyah have left the room, she holds tight to Eric’s arm and leans on him. While she knows Felipe was only trying to do what he thought was best, she can only hope Eric can make the King see reason.

            _‘He’ll see it even if I have to rip off his eyelids to make him do it,’_ her mate sends with a murderous edge to his thoughts.

            She shudders and prays Eric won’t have to make good on his threat.

 

88888888

 

            Once he gets Sookie situated in their Area with Saroyah helping her to pack their things, Eric goes up to the roof to make his phone call because the steel and concrete construction of the compound makes cell reception within the building spotty at best. His conversation with Felipe is short and to the point, and the fact that the King had already been contacted about tonight’s brawl only helps his case. Who called and why de Castro was notified, is unknown to him, but the King did not seem at all surprised nor resistant to Eric’s insistence that he and Sookie must relocate for their own safety.

            When Felipe hears that the preferred sanctuary is Isle Elena, he agrees to Eric’s request on the condition that he be updated regularly. Neither of them have any expectation of danger following them to the protected island. He ends the call with the promise to keep Felipe in the loop, and a pledge to up his quarterly tithe an additional 2-percent even though the thought of giving the King even more of his hard-earned money galls him.

            With one call finished, he prepares to make another. This one will be trickier because it is High Season on the island, and accommodations are sure to be in short supply. He knows the staff will bend over backwards to find a place for him and Sookie (and the Britlingen,) but he as no expectations that they will have their usual cabin. It won’t serve for their needs anyway.

            He takes an unnecessary breath and touches his Hammer as he begins to dial.

            “Mr. Northman, Sir?” a voice interrupts before he can hit the Connect button.

            He whirls, fangs down, to see a uniformed soldier standing there holding a piece of paper. “Yes?” he growls.

            The soldier steps forward, offering the paper. “Message for you, Sir. It came over the fax line.”

            He raises an eyebrow, but accepts the paper.

**PERIN ON HIS WAY. THERE IN TWO HOURS.**

            He wants to laugh, but he swallows it and looks sternly at the young man.

            “When did this come in?” he demands.

            “Just now, Sir. I was dispatched to deliver it as soon as it was received. Your wife told me I could find you up here.”

            He growls low in his throat because a strange male has come near his bonded without him present. He will need to have words with the Britlingen about that, but he manages to curtail his ire long enough to thank the soldier and dismiss him. Then he heads down to give Sookie the news.

            “Elena must be keeping tabs on us,” Sookie says with amusement when he shows her the fax.

            “No doubt someone on Isle Elena is a Seer who can tell Her what will happen,” he reasons.

            She gives him a smirk. “Either that or she bugged your ring.”

            He raises his eyebrows and gives her a smile as they both remember the first time she ever mentioned the possibility of electronic surveillance to a vampire. They had both been in Dallas, but he had not been in the room when she’d suggested to Stan Davis that his meeting room was bugged. He’d heard about it after the fact, and had direly wished he’d been there to see the little blonde telepath crawling about on the floor in a skirt.

            It seemed like another life now. Maybe it was. He doesn’t like to think about what would have happened if Sookie hadn’t managed to survive all the times her life was in danger, or what path she would have followed if Compton hadn’t been an unfaithful and a spy for the Queen. He knows his life without her would be bleak and cold, as it will be after she leaves him through her mortal death.

            He cannot bring himself to even contemplate what his life will be like after she dies. He can only hope and pray that at least one of his children joins him in immortality so he will have at least one tiny part of his mate with him forever.

            He pushes the horror away with a shake of his head. “Goddesses do not need to stoop to such lows. Besides, if my ring is bugged, think of all the conversations and **_events_** She would have been privy to,” he counters with a leer.

            She snorts and pats him on the chest. “As if that was ever something She worried about.”

            He laughs, then sobers. They will be safe soon enough, but there is one he is leaving behind, and he must see to her care.

            “Are you able to handle this? You have two hours, and there is… a matter I must attend to,” he asks.

            “Mei-hua?” she questions knowingly.

            He does not bother to hide it. “Yes.”

            She smiles gently and gives him a little push. “Go on. Saroyah and I have things under control here.”

            He takes her hand a raises it to his lips. “Thank you, my lover.”

            “Come back soon. You know you won’t let anyone carry the cradle but yourself.”

            He smiles. She is referring to the drakkar vagga he carved by hand. He’d been forced to present it to her early and unfinished when Felipe ordered them here, but it is done now and the pride and joy of their nursery. He was even able to give some of the interested soldiers a lesson in Viking shipbuilding. Several took pictures and detailed sketches of the little longship’s construction.

            “You are correct. I will return before the plane arrives,” he promises and steps back.

            She sends him a loving caress through the bond as he makes his way down to the NICU, but he knows she is relieved. She did not want the added responsibility of caring for a third infant. He is conflicted, however. He killed the child’s father, and in doing so caused her mother’s suicide. He cannot claim ignorance to that fact because he knew Quan-ji would kill herself once Tsun-Zhu was dead. Therefore, he is directly responsible for Mei-hua being an orphan even if killing her parents insured that she would live.

            Every instinct and ingrained belief inside him is screaming that he is now responsible for this child, and he must bring her into his fold. It is only right for him to do so, but his wife does not approve. He can only hope that he finds this nameless sister who is coming for the infant to be acceptable. If she is not…

            He sighs as he enters the NICU. All the staff there know him and do not get in his way, and he steps up to the plastic box without hesitation. Mei-hua still cannot breathe on her own, but they have been giving her breaks from the CPAP machine because it was irritating her. She is on oxygen and she has a special mattress pad that “bumps” her to remind her to breathe.

            She already knows he is there because she’s heard his footsteps on the tile floor, and she turns her tiny head in his direction, her little fist lifting up to reach for his touch. It amazes him that she can already distinguish his presence from the nurses or doctors, and the nurses on duty swear that she is more active and alert when he is with her. It makes him proud, but also opens a hole in his heart because he knows she isn’t his.

            She no longer needs to be handled with the rubber gloves so he slips his pinky into her grasp, and she closes her hand around it. He greets her in Mandarin, cooing softly. He calls her lovely and tells her that she is growing strong. Her grip around his finger tightens as he speaks, and he can tell that she can clench her fist harder than before. She has gained weight, but she is still too small and fragile to be moved.

            “Good evening, Mr. Northman,” Nurse Gherner greets with a smile as she comes into the room.

            “Good evening,” he replies. “She is stronger tonight.”

            “Oh yes. She had a great day. She gained another two ounces,” the woman tells him with a smile.

            He smiles back. “That is welcome news.”

            “Would you like to hold her?” the nurse asks suddenly.

            The question stops him short, and he looks at her in surprise. “Is she not too fragile still?”

            “She can be out of the isolette for a short time. I figured you might want to… you know, because her aunt is coming tonight…”

            He returns his gaze to the infant in the box. “And we are leaving tonight. Yes,” he finishes sadly.

            “So it’s true then. You and Mrs. Northman are leaving.”

            He nods. “Yes. It is not safe here for us any longer. The closer our mates get to their due dates, the more protective and territorial we become. Tonight’s battle with Sergei is only the beginning. I will not have my wife or my newborn son and daughter in such danger.”

            “What about Mei? Won’t she be in danger?”

            He shakes his head. “Once Steven and I leave, things should be less volatile because there will be only two vampires here then.”

            She grimaces. “Forgive me if I say the wrong two vampires are leaving. We’ve had no trouble with you or Mr. Chancery. I can’t say the same for the others.”

            He gives her a smile. “They are younger than we are. We have had many more centuries of… controlling our instincts. That is not to say that we don’t feel the same urges they do. It is merely a matter of more practice managing them.”

            “Well, you’re very good at it. If we didn’t already know you were a vampire, we’d never know,” she comments off-handedly.

            He frowns and lets his fangs down, startling her. “That kind of thinking will get you killed. Do not for a moment forget that we are predators and humans are our prey. Some of us might be more civilized than others, but we are all killers.”

            He can see that he’s frightened her, but that was his intent. She is far too comfortable among the undead.

            “Y-yes, Mr. Northman. I understand.”

            “Good,” he says with a short nod as he retracts his fangs. “And now, yes, I would like to hold her.”

            She gives him a nervous nod, and he notes that she is being a bit more cautious around him. It wouldn’t help her one whit if he decides to attack, but he’s glad that she is taking his warning to heart. She goes to a rolling storage unit and pulls out what he has come to recognize as a hospital gown. It is a thin piece of fabric with blue and pink baby shoes and rattles and other baby-related symbols, and she presents this thing to him with a sheepish smile.

            “You need to put this on to protect her from any pathogens that might be on your clothes,” she explains.

            He gives the gown a disdainful look but allows her to slide it onto his arms and tie it in the back. Then she has him hold his hands out while she runs a device with some kind of very bright blue light over them.

            “This UV light will kill any bacteria on your hands,” she says. “We can’t be too careful. Her immune system isn’t developed yet.”

            “I understand,” he replies, but inwardly he wonders if humans being so careful with their infants hasn’t led to the current problems with “superbugs” and allergies. There is some merit in allowing a child to be exposed to things its body must learn to conquer.

            When he is ready: gown on, hands clean, hair pulled back and tucked under a ridiculous cap, the nurse bids him to sit down in the chair next to the plastic box while she unhooks Mei-hua from all her wires and monitors. He watches with the sharp intensity of a hawk sighting prey from above as the woman carefully lifts the tiny infant and turns towards him.

            As if Mei knows she is being brought to her benefactor, she turns her little head to look in his direction and waves her limbs wildly. Nurse Gherner laughs and places her very gently in his outstretched hands. He immediately supports her head and brings her in close to his body, and she settles down right away.

            “She knows it’s you. I swear she does,” she comments.

            Mei is still smaller than his hands and lighter than a 4-pack of TrueBlood, yet she is warm and alive in his palms, her black eyes looking up at him. He swears she smiles.

            “Hello, Little One,” he coos and she burbles at him, tiny fists balled up to her chin. “Look at you so big and strong. You must get bigger and stronger still.”

            At the sound of his voice, her eyes fixate on his face and her mouth opens, her lips pulling back to reveal a toothless mouth. He hums under his breath, smiling back, and he is shocked when he realizes that he is unconsciously rocking her.

            _‘Oh Dear One, it will be terrible to leave you,’_ he sends to her, even though he knows she cannot hear him. _‘But fear not. I will watch over you. You will have a long and prosperous life. I promise.’_

            A noise catches his sensitive hearing, then a strange scent comes into his nose. Almost without his conscious thought, his fangs come down and he feels such a rush of protective rage that it shakes him to his very bones. His red-hazed eyes turn and fixate on a strange Asian woman whom he disregards in lieu of focusing on her male vampire companion. He tucks Mei protectively against him as he rises to his feet, snarling a warning.

            “Shit! Get him out of here now!” the nurse screams, and soldiers rush to remove the male vampire before Eric can attack.

            It takes every bit of his willpower not to rush at the intruder and rend him limb from limb. The urge to kill is so strong, his whole body shakes under the strain of holding it in. It is only Mei’s sudden cries that break him out of his fury, and he turns his attention to the tiny bundle still in his arms. He shakes off the rage as he bounces her lightly, cooing and comforting her until she settles down. By then he is calm and in control again, but the force and suddenness of the episode shocks him. If that is what took Sergei, it is no wonder he flew into a killing rage. He is a thousand years old, and he barely contained it.

            He focuses on Mei, rocking her and walking with her, until the last bit of his fury fades. Only then does his turn his attention to nurse Gherner and the strange Asian woman who is still in the room. One sniff of her scent and he knows she is Mei’s aunt. She smells like Quan-ji so she must be related.

            “You are the one who has come for Mei-hua,” he says, his voice thick and his fangs still down.

            “Mr. Northman, this is Shan-Yue. She is Quan-ji’s sister,” the nurse explains.

            He nods, but before he can say anything, Mei shudders and gasps.

            “What is happening? Her breath is not regular,” he states.

            The nurse rushes forward. “She’s having a bout of apnea. Rub her back to remind her to breathe.”

            He does so, using his middle and index fingers to rub little circles on her back, and he is rewarded by her steady breaths.

            “Oh! Oh. Does that happen often?” he asks.

            “Often enough. Here we should put her back. I’ll put her on the CPAP machine for a little while to give her some extra oxygen.”

            “Yes, that would be best,” he agrees, setting Mei gently down on her back in the plastic box.

            He hovers worriedly while Nurse Gherner puts the mask back on Mei’s little face and hooks her back up to all the wires and monitors. Nervously, he pulls off the cap and gown, tossing them on the tile floor.

            “Will she be alright?” he questions.

            “She’ll be fine. This happens a few times a day. It’s okay. It’s to be expected. She’s actually doing really great,” the nurse consoles him.

            He nods, still hovering, still feeling overly protective. The new woman comes closer, and he wants to put his body between her and Mei, but he stops himself. While his instincts are screaming for him to keep everyone away from the helpless infant in the plastic box, cerebrally he knows that this woman is Mei’s legal guardian and he needs to allow her access.

            He fights the urge to shove her through the wall as she comes to stand on the other side of the box. Instead, he dips into her thoughts to find them sad, resigned, and oddly grateful. She is thinking that it is a tragedy that it has come to this, but that her sister was doomed from the moment she’d bonded with the vampire. She is also relieved that she is not the one who is dead, and he is privy to a secret that the woman’s family has kept for centuries.

            Quan-ji’s family has been in the service of Tsun-Zhu since the Qing Dynasty, and each generation has supplied a bride to the vampire for blood and companionship. Quan-ji was just the latest in a string of girls that the family had provided, and her bonding had been decided when Tsun-Zhu had found the older sister unacceptable. Right now the older sister is saying many prayers to her ancestors for her younger sibling’s soul and her own freedom.

            With Tsun-Zhu’s death, her family is no longer under the boot of the vampire and she thinks that even though he is a bloodsucker, he’s done her family a great service. He wishes he could smirk at her and bow, but that would give his mind-reading powers away.

            “You are the one who saved her,” the Asian woman says suddenly, breaking the tense silence.

            He does not reply. He does not need to because she already knows the answer. Instead he places one hand on the side of the plastic box, his senses focused on the infant within. She is asleep and breathing regularly.

            “Thank you.”

            “You have come to take her?” he asks finally after several moments.

            “When she is strong enough,” she confirms.

            He nods. He can’t bring himself to look at her. This is the woman who will be taking Mei away, and, while he bears her no ill will, he still rankles at her presence. It is almost like she is usurping his authority, but that is not the case. Sookie does not want a third child, and all too soon his days will be full of his own children. This is for the best, but he still aches to see his little flower in the plastic box.

            “I will be following her progress carefully. The King has agreed to keep me updated on her. If she has any need of anything, it will be provided,” he tells her stiffly.

            “You are most generous. My people have a saying: If you save someone’s life, you must care for them forever.”

            He snorts. “Actually, the translation of that proverb is: “If you are saved by someone, you are forever in their debt,” but I understand the sentiment. Yes, I am very interested in her life and how she grows,” he states.

            “I will send you regular updates myself.”

            “And pictures. I’ll want pictures,” he amends.

            The woman smiles but hides it quickly. She is thinking that he is a big softie, but she is too afraid of him to say. It’s a good thing, because then he’d have to kill her just to prove a point and that would be counterproductive.

            “Of course. I will send you a new picture every year on her birthday.”

            “That would be acceptable.”

            He reaches into the plastic box and strokes Mei’s tiny cheek. He will have to leave soon, but it is hard for him to make peace with the fact that he will not see her again for a long time. One of the reasons he had sworn off humans was because of their fragile mortality. It seemed like as soon as one had wormed his or her way into his life, he or she was dying and leaving him again. He’s spent the last thousand years getting used to loss, but it still cuts every time.

            “You have named her Mei-hua?” the woman asks.

            “Yes.”

            “Beautiful flower. It is a good name.”

            He nods.

            “I and my family are grateful for your saving and protecting her.” And for killing Tsun-Zhu, but she does not say that out loud. He picks it out of her mind.

            “I could not stand idly by while an infant was murdered. My people valued all of our children, boys and girls alike,” he answers.

            She nods. “You are to be a father too?”

            “Yes. My bonded is carrying twins.”

            She smiles. “Twins. An auspicious birth. I wish you good health and good fortune to you and your little ones.”

            “Thank you.”

            It is getting harder to stay, and he knows through the bond that Sookie can use his help getting ready for their departure. He must take his leave, and he does so with regret.

            “I will make sure you have my contact information. The King of Washington knows I will be following Mei’s progress. He will always know where to find me.”

            “Thank you.”

            The woman bows to him and he nods back. He gives the infant in the plastic box one last glance before he forces himself to leave the NICU and return to his Area. On the way, he stops in at the operations center to let them know a private jet will be arriving within the hour. He has the Isle Elena jet’s registration number memorized, so he is able to provide the soldier on duty with the proper identification so there will be no delay in allowing the jet to land at the base. Once that is taken care of, he heads up to his rooms, and Sookie meets him at the door, her eyes soft and understanding. He’s already filled her in on Mei-hua’s guardian, and his transference of the child into Shan-Yue’s care. Sookie is getting what she wants, but she knows it’s cost him so she’s being conciliatory. He appreciates her efforts even if they fall short.

            She and Saroyah have everything, but the drakkar vagga packed, and he admires their efficiency. They were correct in assuming that he does not want anyone but himself handling the cradle, although it was built to withstand rough treatment. Delicate things did not last long in his time, and the cradle can stand being bumped around. People and things were sturdy and resilient or they broke, and there was no one to fix them. He thinks that the world has become too fragile over the ages, and humans are too soft.

            If the oft-predicted apocalypse ever comes, he doubts humanity will survive, but vampires will, and they’ll probably farm humans for food.

            What a world that would be.

            He runs his hand over the dragonhead that tops the stempost. The wood is smooth and hard beneath his palm, and he smells the resin and stain he used to seal the grain. The inside is lined with a soft cushion and batting to prevent newborns from banging tender limbs on the hard wood. His own mother had had a cradle just like this one, and she had rocked him and each of his siblings in it. He has no idea what ever became of it.

            Sookie comes to stand beside him, and she places her hand over his as she gives him a sweet smile.

            “It’s beautiful.”

            He nods. “It’s said the rocking of the vagga made going to sea easier because it mimicked the motion of the waves.”

            “Did that work?”

            “I have no idea. I never suffered seasickness, but many of my clansmen did. I don’t know. Maybe I was made of stronger stuff.” 

            She slides her arm into his and presses close. “I don’t doubt that. You must have been a sight to see, all decked out in your armor and fur cape and horned helmet.”

            He chuckles. “Our helmets did not have horns. That was a fabrication on the part of an artist who had had too much to drink.”

            “That’s too bad. I think you would have looked good in one.”

            “I can raid an opera house for you and steal one,” he offers brightly.

            “Will it have the braids already attached?”

            “If that is what you wish.”

            She laughs, a high delighted laughter, and he can feel the tension draining from her as their departure approaches. He can feel it too, the coiled spring inside his belly loosening and relaxing as the time nears. Being here has been far too stressful on both of them, and he is anxious to leave this place behind.

            “I am so glad to be getting out of here,” she says, resting her head on his forearm.

            He slides his arm from her grasp and wraps it around her shoulders, pulling her close. “Me too.”

            He sees her rub her abdomen and smiles, knowing his children are safe and growing strong within her. “We should take the bags down to the hangar. The jet is due in forty minutes and you know Perin is always on time,” she tells him.

            “Yes. Did you want to make your good-byes before we leave?”

            “I already said good-bye to Catherine, and I think Maxine is probably still sedated, so no. I won’t even try to get in to see Josephine. She and I weren’t really friendly anyway.”

            “As you wish, my lover.”

            “Did you…” She looks up at him, trailing off, but he catches the fleeting tendrils of her thoughts.

            “I said good-bye to Mei-hua when I left the NICU,” he says, and he lets her feel his regret.

            She frowns a little and rubs his side comfortingly. “Did you like her aunt?”

            “The woman is acceptable. She will care for Mei and give her a good home,” he answers stiffly.

            “And you’ve already told King Martin that you’ll sponsor her education and such.”

            He nods.

            “And I know you’re going to keep a close eye out for her,” she adds.

            He nods again. “I already have people in place to keep me informed.”

            She smiles. “Then I know she will be safe and want for nothing.”

            “Yes. She will have a good life. Much better than any life she would have had if her parents had survived.”

            He sees her crease her brow in confusion and concern. “How so?”  
            He tells her of Quan-ji’s family’s servitude to Tsun-Zhu, and their “gifts” of women to him. He lets her know how much Quan’s family is relieved to no longer be beholden to the vampire. His liberated wife reacts accordingly.

            “I don’t believe it! They would just give him whatever daughter he wanted?” she gasps.

            “Apparently so. The family had been indentured to Tsun-Zhu for two hundred years. Quan was the twelfth woman they had given him.”

**_“Twelve?!”_ **

            He shrugs. “It would seem he liked them young.”

            “And what did he do with them once they weren’t young anymore?” she questions.

            “I don’t know. Nothing good would be my guess.”

            She shakes her head, muttering to herself. "I'm glad you killed him. I'm sorry Quan is dead and her little baby girl's an orphan, but I am glad that backwards, chauvinistic bastard is dead. If only because it means he can't hurt anyone else."He cannot deny that he shares her sentiment and then some. "He will certainly not be harming anyone ever again."

She snorts and crosses her arms over her chest. "Good."

            He chuckles softly and runs his fingers through her hair. She is fierce and brave and strong, and he loves her all the more for it. "Remind me never to get on your bad side," he teases.

            "You've been on my bad side twice already, but I've let you live because I don't want my children growing up without a father," she quips back.

            He laughs and kisses her hair. "It is a good thing you are so forgiving of my trespasses, otherwise I would have had to beg for your mercy."

            "The night's not over yet," she counters.

            He lets out a delighted bark of laughter and gives her a squeeze before letting her go.

            "Come, lover, let's get our things down to the hangar. Perin will be here soon, and I know how you hate to keep him waiting."

            She huffs, but looks up at him, her eyes shining, and threads her fingers into his.

            "Yes, let's."

            With that, he and Saroyah carry the bags and the drakkar vagga down to the hangar where they await the arrival of the jet that will take them out of there.


	17. Chapter 17

Chapter Seventeen

 

            Eric wakes with the certainty that something vitally important is about to happen, and he rises with a sense of urgency that makes the sluggish blood in his veins sing. Moving quickly, he leaps out of the bed in the light-tight space and rushes out to the rooms that make up the common living quarters of the penthouse suite he and Sookie have called home for the past nine days.

            Upon arrival on Isle Elena (a trip that proved most entertaining because Perin flew below 7,000 feet so as not to expose Sookie or the unborn little ones to excessive changes in pressure), they were ensconced in a suite of rooms that took up one-fourth of the main lodge’s top floor. The three-bedroom penthouse has its own elevator, own balconies looking over the Great Room, and own private access. It is separate enough from the other three suites to give Eric the space he needs to satisfy his territorial instincts, yet within the safety and security of the lodge itself. He could not have asked for a better compromise.

            Upon entering the living room of the suite, he finds his bonded sitting at the round table in the room with Saroyah sitting across from her. They are playing cards, which in and of itself is very odd because Sookie does not often play games, but even odder is the feeling of tension and anticipation coming through the bond.

            “Sookie is in labor,” the Britlingen announces dispassionately as she deals another hand.

            The words stop him dead, and he stares open-mouthed at the two of them calmly playing gin. At first, he is not sure he has heard the midwife correctly. For a moment, he swears he heard her say his wife is in labor.

            He is still staring when Sookie suddenly gasps softly and puts a hand on her abdomen. Saroyah immediately looks at her watch.

            “Twenty-two minutes. Timing now. Let me know when the contraction eases,” the Britlingen states.

            “Okay,” Sookie agrees through gritted teeth.

            “Remember to breathe,” Saroyah reminds gently.

            “Right. Breathe.”

            “Sookie…” he begins, but she stops him by holding up a finger for silence.

            He waits, feeling her tension, until she exhales and relaxes. “Okay, it’s fading now.”

            “Forty-one seconds. They’re getting longer,” the midwife says.

            “Yeah,” Sookie breathes, rubbing her belly.

            “Sookie…” he tries again, a thousand thoughts racing through his brain at once.

            “It’ll be some time yet,” Saroyah informs him. “Her contractions are still twenty minutes apart.”

            “How long has this been going on?” he demands, stepping forward.

            “About three hours. I noticed it after lunch, but I thought it was just my usual backache,” Sookie replies.

            “Three **_hours?_** ” he repeats, running a hand through his hair. He wonders when he picked up that particular nervous habit and stops himself.

            “These things take time. We have plenty of it. Things won’t get serious until the contractions are less than five minutes apart. In the meantime, all we can do is wait and relax,” the midwife tells him.

            “Relax,” he says dubiously.

            “Do you want me to deal you in?” the woman asks him, giving him a bland look.

            “You want me to play gin?”

            “We could play Yahtzee instead,” his wife offers, looking at her cards.

            He gives her a wide-eyed stare that says that he thinks she is insane. It isn’t that he wasn’t expecting this. Two days ago Sookie had begun to “nest,” getting everything ready for the little ones’ arrival and preparing for labor, and the babies “lightened,” turning and moving lower inside his wife, so he knew the birth was approaching. It is how calm she is that surprises him. By all rights, she should be as nervous as he is.

            “I am nervous,” she tells him, taking a card from the deck. “I just know there’s no point in fretting. I learned that from you.”

            “Hmmph,” he grunts.

            “If you want to make yourself useful, you can find us a bright floor lamp, a waterproof mattress cover, and pile of extra towels,” Saroyah says,

            He snorts. “Anything else?”

            “I’ll make a list.”

            He scowls, but does not object. The Britlingen writes a laundry list of items that they will need on a paper napkin and hands it to him. He takes it from her, reads it, then goes to the phone sitting on the lamp table next to the sofa. One of the perks of the penthouse suite is a direct line to a private concierge down on the first floor, and someone picks up the phone on the second ring.

            “Hello, this is Eric Northman in penthouse suite 401, I need several items brought to me.”

            He waits a few moments for the disembodied voice on the other end of the line to retrieve a pen before reading off the list.

            “Did you get all of that?”he asks.

            “Yes, Mr. Northman. Anything else?”

            “No, that will be all.”

            “I will have these items delivered in ten minutes.”

            “That is acceptable,” he states and hangs up. As he does so, he looks at his bonded and the midwife who are both scowling at him; he glares back. “I am no one’s go-fer.”

            Sookie snorts and returns to her hand of cards, but her turn is interrupted by another contraction. He is by her side before the cards finish falling to the table.

            “Sookie…” he whispers, placing one hand on her shoulder as she tenses and grits her teeth.

            “That one was only sixteen minutes, and it lasted forty-five seconds,” Saroyah says when his mate finally relaxes.

            “They’re getting stronger, too,” his mate says, letting out a deep breath.

            The Britlingen stands, placing her cards face down on the table. “I should check your dilation. It’s possible that you’re getting closer to delivery.”

            “I should be so lucky. Gran once told me she was in labor for nineteen hours when my dad was born,” Sookie replies.

            He doesn’t want to remind her that, technically, she’s a few days early so he keeps mum on the subject.

            _‘Good choice,’_ he hears her tell him, her thoughts laced with irritation, but her ire is just to hide her uncertainty and fear; he knows this and sends love and calm across the bond.

            A knock at the door announces the arrival of the supplies, and he ushers the two female demons into the suite’s master bedroom, relieved that the concierge was smart enough not to send males. They make quick work of putting the waterproof pad on the mattress and remaking the bed, and they’ve also brought a large pile of pillows he can only assume will be needed later.

            Both females give him and Sookie odd, eager looks as they leave, and he knows that soon the whole island will be aware of what is happening. It’s no matter; everyone’s been waiting with bated breath for the past four days anyway. He just wonders who’s going to win the pool. He figures whoever chose July 9th is about to get a lot richer, unless the little ones dally until after midnight, then July 10th will be the big winner.

            He was secretly hoping that they would be born on the Feast of Sunna, but they will be at least a day late. It’s just as well since he has already pledged Adele to Hlin. It would be awkward to offer a girl-child to one goddess on the feast day of another. He’s never been fanatically religious, but even he acknowledges that such a thing would be in very poor taste.

            After the female demons leave, he watches as Saroyah gets Sookie settled on the bed and in a position for her to be able to see how much his mate’s cervix has dilated. While they are occupied, he takes the opportunity to pull on a shirt and a pair of jeans. Most people in his life have seen him naked at some point, but in this situation he feels it is better for him to be clothed.

            Sookie is nervous, but does what the Britlingen tells her to do, lifting her soft cotton nightgown and bending her legs. He stands back and lets the midwife do her job. This is why they hired her, and he trusts in her ability to bring his children into the world safely. While she is laying herself back, she has another contraction and he frowns. They are definitely coming closer together now.

            “It is because you are awake, I am sure,” Saroyah tells him, shining a light between his wife’s legs. “She has been holding back, worried that the babies will come during the day. Now that you are here, she is relaxing. Things will go faster now, but this is still her first birth so it will still take longer.”

            He makes no comment, but notices that Sookie has begun to sweat and her eyes have dilated. She is starting to feel the pain of the labor, but she doesn’t need his help with it just yet. They have discussed this. His wife does not want any pain medications during the birth so he will take her pain into himself and dull its effects through their bond, although he is not averse to her getting anything she needs should the pain prove too much for both of them. He has heard many, many stories of the agony of childbirth, and he wonders if the pain is worse than having a limb cut off and waiting for it to grow back. He thinks it will be interesting because in a short time, he will be able to compare the two pains.

            “Hmmm. You are around 5 centimeters. You are still a long way off. Get up and walk around. Breathe and try to relax. You will need all of your energy for later,” Saroyah states, pulling back from her examination.

            Sookie nods and sits up. He is by her side immediately, unsure if her walking around is a good idea, but she grips his hand tightly and uses him as a counterbalance as she rises to her feet. He steadies her, making sure she has her balance before letting her hand go.

            “Where shall we walk?” he asks, but she knows her options are limited.

            Here in their little private suite, his territorial instincts are in control, but the moment they were to go down into the lodge itself, he will be hard pressed not to kill any male who gets too close.

            “Let’s just go around the living room a few times,” she suggests, and he agrees, keeping a light hold on her arm as they head back into the common rooms.

            “Saroyah says this is the longest part of labor,” his wife tells him as he escorts her in slow circles around the room. “She says the actual delivery won’t take more than a couple of hours, but that it’ll take me a long time before I’m fully dilated.”

            He nods, but does not offer commentary. In truth he is timing the contractions himself with his own internal clock, and he realizes that he is able to sense a contraction before Sookie feels it. He can hear the muscles tensing and smell the pooling of the blood deep within her. It excites him and makes him anxious at the same time.

            “How are the babies?” Sookie asks him, drawing him out of his darker thoughts.

            He shakes off the gray haze that had settled over him and focuses his senses on the lives within her. Agnarr and Adele are quiet, but they have no concept of what is happening to them. Driven by instinct older than the oldest vampire, his unborn son and daughter have reversed their positions so their heads are facing down. They do not know why they have done this, only that they must, and their mother’s nervousness only adds to their confusion.

            They have no knowledge of time or the outside or anything beyond their mother’s womb, and all attempts to explain that there is something more – a whole world they have never seen or experienced yet – is rather like trying to teach someone who has spent his whole life underground about the universe and the endless expansion of the galaxies. It is not something that can be explained, only witnessed. His children will understand soon enough, but first they must pass the first trial and come out into the world.

            “They are fine,” he answers. “Heartbeats are healthy and strong.”

            “I’m having a hard time feeling them,” she admits. “It’s probably my own nervousness or…”

            “Or maybe something that happens naturally. If you are distracted by their worry and confusion, it might impede the birth. All of your senses and attention must be focused on bringing them into the world. If you can feel them…”  
            “Then it might knock me off my game,” she finishes, nodding and releasing some of her tension. “You’re right. How’d you know that? I mean, you’re a guy and you’ve been dead for a thousand years.”

            He smiles and shrugs. “It’s only a theory.”

            She gives him a happy look and a small smile before another contraction makes her grimace and grip her belly. He rubs her lower back to alleviate some of the pain and waits it out with her.

            “Ten minutes,” he tells her when the contraction eases.

            She exhales and nods, stepping forward again. “I’m relying on you to keep a sharp ear out. If the umbilical cords get wrapped around their necks…”

            “That will not happen,” he assures her.

            “Still, I need you to keep track of their heartbeats…”

            “I will listen and tell you immediately if there is any change,” he promises, knowing she needs to hear his vow.

            She sighs and leans into him. She is being brave, he knows, but then she has always been brave. She has always faced fear with a stubborn set to her jaw and a gross disregard for her own safety. She is like a lioness, fierce and proud and fearless, but she is his lioness, and he guards her as strongly as any King of Beasts.

            “I need some fresh air,” she tells him. “These walls are too close.”

            “Let’s go outside then,” he offers, and steers her towards the double French doors that lead to the suite’s private deck, grabbing a shawl from the back of a chair to wrap around her shoulders.

            Out there is a large area with its own hot tub and fire pit, and he guides her through the doors into the cool, July night. The sky is still slightly orange and purple along the horizon, the last rays of the dying day fading into the lake. He remembers sitting on the shore near his village, watching the sun dip into the sea. His grandfather would make a hissing noise to imitate the sound of fire meeting water, and tell him the sun was going down into Muspellhiem to replenish herself before returning to Midgard with the dawn. He smiles now and looks forward to sitting with his children to tell them the same stories.

            Sookie breathes in the night air and pulls the shawl closer around her.

            “Cold?” he asks, drawing her near even though he has no body heat with which to warm her.

            She shakes her head. “No. Just feeling small,” she admits, looking up at the stars.

            “The stars were my friends,” he says. “They guided me home. I could always chart my path by their light. My grandfather would tell me that they were the souls of fallen heroes looking down on us, and that was why we could use them to find our way.” He pauses, frowning slightly. “There’s no magic in the world anymore. Everything is science, technology. Humans dissecting everything to find out how it all works. Nothing is taken on faith anymore. It’s no wonder the gods died.”

            Sookie takes his hand and places it on her swollen belly, lacing her fingers into his, her hand dwarfed in his palm. “This is magic. This is proof that there are gods in the world who love us and look after us, no matter what they look like or what we call them.”

            He smiles and strokes her face with his finger. “There are nights when I look at you and wonder what I ever did to deserve you. So many years I spent killing, raiding, taking what I wanted, and that was before I was turned. After… well… you know some of my past. I lived with impunity, with ruthless cunning. I killed thousands of humans, some just because I wanted to. By any human god’s standards, I am damned, and yet the gods saw fit to give me you.”

            She blushes and looks away, a wry smile on her lips. “I’m no great prize. I’m annoying and out spoken, and I never do what I’m told.”

            “You forgot stubborn.”

            She elbows him in the ribs, but he just laughs until another contraction cuts off his chuckle. He stands by her, supporting her as she rides it out, her hand gripping his tightly.

            “What can I do?” he asks softly, opening the bond a little further, preparing to take her pain.

            “Sing to me,” she whispers, her voice shaky.

            He pulls her close, tucking her head under his chin. “I will sing to you the old songs, the ones I will sing to our children so that they will know their past.”

            She sighs and relaxes against him as he begins to croon in a deep voice the songs of the ancients.

            Hours pass. The time counted in minutes between contractions. Saroyah checks Sookie every half hour to gauge the progression of her dilation, and the midwife says things are moving as normal. The contractions reach a point where they are eight minutes apart and hold there for over an hour. Sookie lies down on the bed, pillows bolstering her into a reclining position, her mind focusing inward as the birthing gets closer.

            He steps out onto the balcony that overlooks the Great Room for an unneeded breath of fresh air, and he sees that a crowd has gathered below. Multiple sets of eyes look up to see him as he gazes down, and he knows that they are there waiting. He recognizes many of the ones he and his mate call friends, although it is very good that they are four floors away from him. He sees Toth, and Noria, and Surima, along with a number of others, all milling about on the stone floor. He knows that Elena is there somewhere even if he cannot see Her, and he wouldn’t be surprised if Hlin is there too. His patrons have as much invested in this birth as he and Sookie do.

            A sharp cry from within the suite makes him rush to the bedroom where Saroyah is mopping up a spill of liquid on the mattress.

            “Her water has broken, and the contractions are five minutes apart. It won’t be long now,” the midwife says.

            He looks at his wife. Sookie is wide-eyed and panting, and he can feel her fear through the bond. She is about to pass through the crucible of motherhood, and no matter how much she wants this, there is still the uncertainty and danger of childbirth. In his day, many, many women died trying to bring their little ones into the world.

            _‘I am here,’_ he tells her, moving to lie beside her on the bed, taking her hand into his own. _‘I am with you. You are not alone.’_

_‘Eric…’_

_‘I am with you. You will be safe. You and the little ones.’_

_‘Eric… if anything happens to me, you save them. Even if it means you lose me, you save our babies,’_ she sends desperately.

_‘Do not be silly. Nothing is going to happen. You and the babies will be fine.’_

_‘Promise me!’_

_‘No,’_ he refuses.

_‘Eric!’_

_‘Do not ask me to put their lives above yours. You are all equal in my mind.’_

_‘Damn you, Eric! Our babies come first!’_

_‘I will not make meaningless childbed promises to you to ease your silly fears,’_ he counters.

            _‘Silly? I am not being silly!’_

_‘No, you are just being melodramatic as usual.’_

_‘Melodramatic?! Why you…’_

            **_“Enough!”_** Saroyah roars, snapping them both out of their mental argument. “Whatever you are doing, stop it now. You are about to give birth to twins. Now is not the time for arguments.”

            “We weren’t arguing,” they both say in unison.

            The Britlingen snorts and give them a stern look. “Well, whatever it is you are **_not_** doing, cease doing it.”

            “Saroyah…” Sookie gasps. “If anything happens to me, you save my babies.”

            The midwife frowns. “It is my duty as your midwife to see that both mother and child make it through the birth safely.”

            “But if you have to make a choice…”

            “Sookie…” he growls, his fangs showing.

            “You are being silly,” Saroyah snaps. “You are here in a Sanctuary. There are at least three god-beings here, two of which are powerful healers. Nothing is going to happen, and you are wasting precious energy worrying and arguing about something that will not come to pass. Save all of your strength for the birth.”

            If the woman could have added a “so there” to her statement, it would have been perfect, and he gives Sookie a smug “I told you so” look. She glares at him, her blue eyes piercing him like daggers, but he just smiles and waggles his eyebrows at her. It breaks the tension and she relaxes, rolling her eyes at him.

            “That’s better,” Saroyah says.

            He smirks, but his wife just makes a rude gesture most cultured, Southern Belles would not even dream of making. It makes him smile more.

            “You’re at eight centimeters,” the midwife announces, taking another peek. “You’re almost there.”

            Her words remind them of what they are supposed to be doing, and he takes her hand again. She grips it tightly despite her earlier anger.

            “You might feel the urge to push,” Saroyah continues. “You must resist until you are fully dilated.”

            “Easy for you to say,” Sookie snaps, tensing from another contraction. They’re getting closer together and much more painful. He opens the bond fully and slides his consciousness alongside hers. “Ugnh! Eric!”

            “I am here, my love. I am with you.”

            “Get behind her. Support her back and help her when it’s time for her to push,” the midwife says.

            In a move only a vampire, or an acrobat, could accomplish, he shoves the pillows piled behind his wife to the floor and slides in behind her to take their place. Her back is pressed to his chest, her head slightly below his ear were it can rest against his shoulder. His hips and legs encompass hers, and she immediately reaches down to grip both of his thighs with clenching hands. He brings his arms up to lightly support her elbows and places both of his palms flat on her abdomen.

            He can feel the roiling of the muscles within and braces for another contraction. It comes, rolling through her lower body like a surging wave, and he feels her body seize with the crest. As the pain reaches its apex, he grabs hold of it and pulls it into himself, shunting it down into his ribcage and out through his hands and feet.

            _‘Well, that wasn’t so bad. Somewhere between vomiting and being stabbed,’_ he muses, cataloging the pain in his analytical mind.

            _‘You haven’t puked in ten centuries, how would you know?’_ Sookie counters.

            _‘True, but I’ve been stabbed recently.’_

_‘Don’t remind me.’_

            They both relax as the contraction wanes, and he croons and soothes her in the space between crests. Soon there will be almost no relief as the contractions merge into each other. She must take what respite she can while she has it.

            The next four contractions remain about the same pain level, but then a stronger pull ups the pain from stabbing to skewering with a hint of being seared by the sun. Still not to “limb growing back” levels, but certainly upping the ante.

            _‘Let me know when it reaches “opening an umbrella up your ass” levels,’_ his wife deadpans.

            _‘Being that I have never had an umbrella opened up my ass, I have no point of reference,_ ’ he quips back.

            _‘I can change that.’_

_‘I am sure you could. Is this now where you scream that this is all my fault and try to pull my bottom lip over my head?’_

_‘No, not yet. I’ll do that later. Right now, I’m just at the deep resentment phase.’_

_‘Oh how soon you forget that this was all your idea.’_

_‘Oh riigghhtt. And you had nothing to do with this.’_

_‘Well, I did let a complete stranger shave and fondle me, then stick a needle into my balls. Does that count?’_

_‘As foreplay.’_

_‘Now, now, my lover, you know I’m not into that kinky stuff.’_

_‘You bast…’_ she begins, but is cut off by another powerful surge. “Unngghh!”

            “Nine centimeters. Don’t push. Not yet,” Saroyah says.

            He looks at the midwife. She is seated at the end of the bed, bright light pointed directly at his wife’s exposed crotch, and she strangely reminds him of a baseball player. He half wonders if she should be wearing a face mask and holding a catcher’s mitt. With his children, one never knows.

            Sookie lets out a keening cry as the contractions start to merge, and he braces her, moving with her as she arches her back. The pain is at being skinned alive, but still not the worst he has suffered, and he shunts it away as the next wave hits. All banter and teasing is cast aside as he is drawn down into her mind, his consciousness focusing with hers as the birth looms.

            There is a shimmer of energy and a “pop” as two figures suddenly materialize into the bedroom. Being that there are protective shields around the penthouse suite to prevent unauthorized teleportation, the intruders have to be individuals who have been here before, and his wild, territorial rage is squashed immediately by a familiar voice.

            “I’m sorry we’re late,” Izzy says, slightly breathless. “Thunderstorms in Roanoke delayed our flight.”

            _‘Izzy… Maria…’_ Sookie greets with joy and relief.

            The gypsy woman comes to stand next to the bed, and he sees that she is carrying Rosamun’s case. “We’re here to help.”

            She touches Sookie’s arm, and they both get a flash of a young woman, afraid and in pain, giving birth in a tub full of ice water because her baby is a Fire Demon.

            “I’m glad you’re here,” his wife says between pants.

            “So, where are we?” Izzy asks, wiping her newly washed hands dry with a paper towel.

            “She’s at nine centimeters and dilating quickly,” Saroyah replies.

            “Cool. We made it for the big push. Mia, you know what to do.”

            “Yes.”

            Without preamble, the gypsy woman pulls a chair next to the bed and lifts her violin to her chin. Soon the room is filled with soft music meant to soothe and calm the listeners. Maria has spent the last decade honing her craft, and she has a great deal more control over her Gifts. Izzy busies herself with getting ready for the babies’ imminent arrival. He notices that she prepares the receiving blankets and moves the drakkar vagga closer to the bed.

            “I’ll get the water ready,” Izzy announces and leaves the bedroom.

            “You’ll be able to push soon,” Saroyah promises his mate.

            Sookie groans and seizes up again as a new wave of contractions take hold of her body. The pain has intensified beyond being skinned alive to being crushed under a falling building, and he grunts under the pressure of it, steadying Sookie as she trembles against him. Her mind is a continuous litany of useless birthing facts and heartfelt prayers for a safe delivery. He takes one hand and smoothes the hair from her sweaty brow, whispering encouragement and love to her. Saroyah places warm, wet compresses on his wife’s perineum to prevent her from ripping herself open during the birth.

            “Nnnuunnggghhhhhh!” she sobs as she strains from the pain, her fingernails digging into his thighs.

            “Don’t worry, my love. It will all be over soon, and we will see our little ones, we will hold them in our arms and hear their first cries.”

            Her eyes fly open wide as her mind goes blank as her neck arches, all the blood vessels popping out in sharp relief against her skin, and he knows something has changed.

            “Now! Push now,” Saroyah orders.

            Sookie does not need to be told twice.

            He grits his teeth, his fangs descending as he feels her bear down, and he spreads his hands across her belly, applying gentle pressure as she bends forward. The next several minutes are consumed by their efforts, their minds merging until his consciousness is completely one with hers, and he makes no distinction between them. He can feel the child within pressing to get out, feel the deep burn as the first head enters the birth canal, stretching the opening far beyond anything it has ever done before.

            The pain condenses. It is an agony not unlike being impaled, only now there is a reason for it, a singular purpose with a goal behind the trial. More than once he has endured excruciating pain because the end result was something that he wanted badly enough to suffer for it. He digs his heels into the mattress and pushes with her, grunting as she gasps and makes strangled cries from her (their?) efforts. In some still functioning part of his brain, he can hear the violin music, and the shouted encouragement from Izzy and the midwife, but the sounds are abstract and detached from his reality. His reality is focused entirely on a short passageway less than nine inches in length, and the new life reaching to be born.

            He can feel the baby moving, feel it sliding down the narrow chute to the outside world. Someone shouts that they can see the head, and he realizes that the first child has “crowned.” The cheers and orders intensify as they are urged to push harder, stronger. Sookie screams from the effort, guttural and deep from her chest, and he shouts out as well, his voice echoing her own. His thighs clamp down on her hips, his hands rhythmically shoving downward, as they bend forward, shaking violently.          

            He feels something snap, a pressure released, as the first head clears its mother’s body. Saroyah has a hand on it as it rotates towards Sookie’s left thigh, and he feels the shoulders come free after another hard push. After that, the birth is completed rather quickly as the rest of the baby slides out with a final shove. The last wave of pain does reach “limb growing back” levels, but all pain vanishes the moment they realize that they are new parents. Spots swim before his eyes, and he realizes that he is panting, breathing as heavily as his wife when he has no need to breathe at all. Sookie is drenched with sweat, trembling and crying, her face wet with snot and tears.

            “It’s the boy,” Saroyah announces, holding a squirming blob of flailing limbs and flushed skin. His son is nearly purple, and he can smell the blood smeared all over the infant.

            “Agnarr,” Sookie sobs, gasping, her hands automatically reaching out.

            The umbilical cord is still firmly attached to the baby’s navel, dangling like a glistening, pale worm, and he surges forward almost on instinct to rend the cord in two with his teeth. His incisors snap down on the wet flesh, severing the tie a few inches from his son’s belly, and he spits out the chunk with a loud retch.

            _‘Whoa. Dramatic much? A simple snip of a surgical scissors would have done the trick just as well,’_ Izzy comments.

            Part of him realizes that she is merely teasing, but a bigger part of him is caught in a whirlwind of primal urges.

            “My son,” he growls, hissing a warning and glaring at the two women as the newborn is wrapped in the receiving blanket.

            He wants to reach out and grab the infant, but Agnarr is in no mood to be fought over. Seeing with his eyes for the first time in a world of light, feeling the cool, dry air on his tender skin, and hearing his parents’ voices without the filter of womb and water, he opens his mouth and screams for his sister.

            Adele makes her debut a scant twenty-six minutes later. Once Agnarr is clear of his mother’s body, and the initial shock of his birth wears off, he and Sookie return to the task of bringing the second of their children into the world. With the birth canal already stretched from Agnarr’s passing, his sister’s journey into the light is much quicker and easier. The pain is muted compared to the first time, and he retains more of his own mind in the birthing. He even allows Saroyah to cut the umbilical cord with a proper set of shears instead of him chewing through it.

            Agnarr screams most of the intervening time, inconsolable in the absence of his sibling, and no matter what either parent does to assure him that his womb-mate is on her way nothing seems to placate him, not even an offer of a full breast for his first meal. It is not until Adele’s first cries echo in the room, and brother can touch sister once again, that both of them settle down. Within an hour of being born, both infants nurse to get their mother’s precious first milk, full of antibodies and things to make the new babies strong, and shortly after they get their first baths courtesy of Izzy and Maria while Sookie expels the afterbirth.

            Once the placentas are out, and the birthing process complete, he carries Sookie to a pre-drawn hot bath and washes the both of them quickly. She is exhausted, but beatific and eager to get back to her newborns. The bed has been stripped and remade with clean linens while they bathed, and he settles her down into the blankets. His first glimpse of his children is as two white-wrapped bundles side-by-side in the drakkar vagga, nestled in its protective hull as intended. It is hard to describe the emotions that are swirling through him right now, but if he had to give them names he would call them exhilaration and euphoria.

            He piles pillows around his wife and makes sure she is comfortable before holding out his hands for his children. Saroyah is still inspecting the fused placenta to make sure everything has been expelled, so it is Izzy who reaches into the vagga to place his daughter in his arms. When her hand touches his forearm, he gets a flash of Izzy learning that she will never be able to bear children of her own, and the deep pain the woman carries within. He gives Izzy a tender smile as he carefully transfers Adele into Sookie’s waiting hands. Agnarr starts to fuss immediately, but he is quickly lifted and placed next to his sister on Sookie’s chest. Sookie unbuttons her nightgown to allow the babies to nurse again, and he holds Adele steady while she braces Agnarr with her arm.

            “I am so proud of you,” he whispers, feeling dazed and awed by what has happened. He is a thousand years old and a father for the first time.

            “Oh, Eric, they’re perfect,” his wife says, tears leaking from her eyes.

            “Of course they are. They look just like their mother,” he replies.

            She chuckles, but shakes her head. “Adele has your nose.”

            It is hard to tell if Sookie is being truthful because his daughter’s face is concealed by Sookie’s breast. All he can see of Adele is the small portion of her neck not covered by the pink cap on her head.

            “Is everything okay? Are they healthy?” Sookie asks Saroyah.

            “They appear to be both in good health. The girl-child weighs a healthy 5 and a half pounds. The boy is smaller. He is only 4 and three-quarter pounds, but still a good weight for a twin. One is usually heavier than the other.”

            “That would explain why he’s the one eating the strongest. He’s trying to catch up to his sister,” his bonded comments, smiling. Agnarr is nursing noisily. His sister is less enthusiastic.

            “What was the official time of birth?” he asks.

            “Agnarr was born at exactly 3:09am, July 10th. Adele came out at 3:35am,” Izzy answers.

            “All of that will be recorded on the official birth certificates,” the midwife says matter-of-factly.

            “Eric, we have two babies,” Sookie blurts, almost babbling.

            He beams at her. “Yes, we do.”

            She starts to cry, but he knows they are happy tears. “Oh, Eric, I’m so happy. Thank you. I take back all the horrible things I’ve ever said to you.”

            He chuckles. “ ** _All_** of them?”

            “Well, no, only the ones you didn’t deserve,” she corrects.

            “Ah, then just most of them. I see.”

            She snickers, then lets out a deep sigh.

            “You should rest. You put forth a great deal of energy and lost a good deal of blood. You need to regain your strength,” he tells her.

            The babies are finished eating and are now lying against their mother’s chest, half-asleep.

            “I can’t sleep. If I close my eyes, they might disappear,” she replies.

            “Nothing is going to happen to our children. I will stay awake and stand guard if that is what you want,” he promises.

            “But it’ll be dawn soon.”

            “I will use one of the magic leaves Eros gave me.”

            “There’ll be no need for that. Mia and I are here, plus Saroyah, and Sparky is downstairs,” Izzy says. “Not to mention you’re on Isle Elena, and Elena will personally murder anyone who tries to harm any of you. You should both sleep. You both need your rest.”

            “You’ll be able to sleep just as soon as the adrenaline wears off,” Saroyah adds.

            He gives his wife a smile and gently picks up Adele. He cradles her for a few moments, marveling at her tiny face and hands, before placing her into the vagga, then he retrieves Agnarr and puts him in beside his sister. Both infants immediately settle down as soon as their bodies touch. It is a sweet scene that makes him feel… warm and impossibly proud.

            He feels the urge to crow his victory, so he leaves the bedroom, going out to the balcony overlooking the Great Room. The gathered crowd is much larger than it had been previously, but they spot him almost right away. He gives them a thumbs-up sign and grins at the resulting cheer, waving as the on-lookers throw confetti and order celebratory drinks. A baby has not been born on Isle Elena in almost a century, and it is a time to rejoice.

            He stays out on the balcony for a few minutes before heading back into the suite. Things have calmed down, and Sookie – despite her earlier protests – has fallen asleep. He gives the other women in the room a quiet smile as he approaches the vagga, and he is pleased when the three of them make a quiet exit to the living room.

            Agnarr and Adele are asleep too, their tiny bodies wrapped in tight blankets that they cannot get tangled into. Saroyah previously explained that the confining wrapping actually makes newborns feel more secure since it mimics the tight quarters of the womb. Dipping into his children’s minds, he can attest that they are content and not under any duress. He looks down at them, and his undead heart is filled with such joy and love he can barely contain it.

            He bends down and kisses both newborns on the cheek, then he takes a seat next to the cradle and begins to rock the Longship gently, mimicking the bobbing of the waves. From deep within his chest, he starts to croon and hum as he begins to sing the first of the famous songs he will impart to his children. 


	18. Chapter 18

Chapter Eighteen

 

            It is blessedly quiet. After the birth, he is inundated with Things. That. Must. Be. Done. Right. Now. There is the paperwork for registering a birth (this is the 21st century after all, and everyone must be registered, cataloged and filed), there is the official “call” list to announce that the babies are on the ground (thankfully Maria and Izzy help with this because if he has to listen to one more squeal of happiness, he swears he will find a way to reach through the phone and rip out the squealer’s larynx), there is the coordinating of follow-up medical exams and requests for decisions on vaccination (he must speak to his wife on this matter) and circumcision (Hell, no! He’s uncut and he’s done just fine for the last ten centuries, thankyouverymuch), and finally, he must call his King to report the birth.

            He calls Felipe just before dawn to inform him that his retinue has just increased by two. De Castro offers his congratulations and says he expects to see the children as soon as it is safe for them to travel. Mentally, Eric seethes that the King can come to him if he wants to see the babies so much, but verbally he forces a smile and promises Felipe that an audience will be forthcoming in the next few weeks.

            When all the tasks are completed, it is daybreak, and he retrieves the carved wooden box that holds Eros’s enchanted mint leaves. Taking one out, he slips it under his tongue and waits. He is well used to the taste by now, having availed himself of their magic a number of times over the last decade, and he inhales as the sluggishness from the daytime stupor is pushed away. The fog that had begun to settle over his mind lifts, and he shakes off the last of the drowsiness with a splash of cold water on his face.

            Saroyah is standing by the vagga when he comes out of the bathroom, and she casts him a glance as he approaches the cradle. He notices that she is changing Agnarr’s diaper with quick, efficient movements, and wrapping him back up in his blanket. Earlier, Sookie woke up long enough to nurse the babies again before falling back to sleep, and she is still in blissful dreamland now with a happy smile on her face. The sight warms him and makes him smile.

            “I knew you wouldn’t rest,” Saroyah says to him, tucking his son back into the vagga.

            He shakes his head, smiling down at his children. Both of them are much larger than tiny Mei-hua, but then they are full term and healthy. Adele is awake and looking at him so he reaches down to pick her up.

_‘Hello, Little One. It’s Faðir. Faðir is so happy to see you.’_

            Adele’s infant brain buzzes softly as she tries to process what she’s been told. It is hard for her to associate the voice she has been “hearing” inside her mother’s womb with the alien creature who handles her now, but she is defiant like her mother and stares him down. He chuckles and puts her back into the vagga just as her brother begins to fret.

            “Ahhh, come to Faðir,” he says, picking up his son. “Very concerned with your sister, eh? That is good. It is your duty to protect her. Faðir will teach you. You will be a great warrior and keep your sister safe.”

            Agnarr has no commentary, but it’s obvious that he does not like to be away from Adele. Eric supposes that, after spending every moment of his fetal life in direct contact with his sister, being away from her in this new, strange world is upsetting to the newborn. Before he can get up to crying about his situation, Eric puts him back so he will not disturb Sookie.

            “There. There she is. See? All is well and you are together again.”

            “That will fade with time,” Saroyah tells him. “As they get older, they will need to be with each other less and less, but right now, they are all each other knows.”

            He nods. “Yes. That is understandable. The world is a new and scary place.”

            “More than you know.”

            He looks at the midwife, perhaps really seeing her for the first time. In all the months she has been with them, and through all of the trials and upheavals she has gone through with them, he still has no idea of her past or her life in her home dimension.

            “I’ve never asked you, do you have children of your own?” he questions.

            A soft look comes to the Britlingen’s face as she gives a rare smile and nods. “Yes. I had three boys and a girl.”

            “Had?” he says, picking up on the past tense.

            “Our boys’ life expectancy is short,” she explains, looking down. “Two of my sons are gone, but the other is still with us. He took a different path.”

            Different path in Britlingen means her third son is not a warrior. This is rare among Britlingen males and often not looked upon fondly, but one can argue that this son is alive while the others are already in their graves. Like his youngest brother, Björn outliving all of them because he became a merchant and not a raider.

            “And your daughter?” he presses.

            “She followed me. She is a midwife. She helped deliver her youngest brother when he was born.”

            “I would hope that she is as competent and knowledgeable as you.”

            “Thank you.”

            “I am serious. I do not know what we would have done if we hadn’t had your services. With all the trouble and upheaval we have had, your presence has been invaluable. I admit to being apprehensive at first, but I am glad that I overcame my misgivings.”

            Saroyah nods, giving him an appraising look. “I admit I had my misgivings too, but I am glad I took this job. Your bonded is smart and brave and easy to get along with, and you… you aren’t half bad for a vampire, and you do what is necessary to protect your own.”

            He dips his head. “Thank you. That is high praise.”

            “And you are by far not my most difficult case. I once was hired to protect the fourteenth spouse of the President of the Graak’lyon Alliance. They always have multiple births. That one was carrying octuplets.”

            He winces at the thought. “I have no doubt that birth was a challenge.”

            “You have no idea,” the Britlingen replies drolly.

            He chuckles and raises his head to face the bedroom door as he hears someone approaching.

            “Sparky wants to come up to see the babies,” Izzy announces as she appears in the doorway. “Are you gonna go ballistic on him?”

            He considers the woman’s words, judging how the prospect of allowing the teen into his territory makes him feel. He knows the boy well, and had not had any troubles with him previously, but now that the twins have been born…

            Still, Vincent is Maria’s son, and he has done him and Sookie a good turn.

            “I will try to control myself,” he answers finally.

            Izzy nods and moves to turn away, but she stops when he calls to her.

            _‘I was not aware that you could not bear children,’_ he sends.

            She pauses for a long time, and he can see the emotions crossing her face.

_‘It isn’t something I talk about.’_

            He nods and respects her privacy, but offers her a small smile nonetheless.

            “I’ll tell Sparky you won’t chop him up and feed him to the sturgeons,” she says, turning away again.

            “I’ll **_try_** not to chop him up and feed him to the sturgeons,” he corrects.

            “Riiigghhht,” she snorts and leaves the room.

            He returns his attention to his children as Saroyah takes the soiled diapers and places them in a bag to be sent for washing. They are using cloth diapers, and the lodge offers a laundry service as part of the penthouse perks. Adele is asleep, but Agnarr is awake, his little mind whirring as he tries to figure out his surroundings. The infant is trying to understand his new senses. Sight is, of course, a new sense, and even the softly lit room is a shock compared to the almost complete darkness of the womb, but it is smell (and it’s close companion, taste) that has him really confused. The scents in the room are like nothing the newborn has ever experienced, and he has no idea what to make of it.

            He sits down on the chair positioned next to the vagga and the bed where Sookie continues to sleep in blissful peace (he admits to having something to do with that by sending calming energy through the bond), and begins to rock the cradle gently.

            _‘There is no need to be concerned, my son,’_ he says. _‘Smell will be one of your greatest senses. You will come to value it almost as much as you will value your sight.’_

            The infant looks his way, blue eyes searching. The baby books his wife spent so much money on say that newborns are very nearsighted, so he leans forward, putting his face a mere twelve inches away from Agnarr’s eyes. Since the infant is still tightly wrapped, he cannot reach up to touch his father’s face, but he does focus his gaze very intently.

            _‘I am Faðir,’_ Eric says.

            Agnarr blinks and gurgles, but offers no clear thoughts. It will be a few weeks before words and thoughts have meaning. He smiles and lets down his fangs.

_‘You are my son.’_

            Agnarr seems to recognize his voice, and the buzzing in his newborn mind appears to be making a connection. There might be some truth to the notion that newborns imprint on their parents within the first few hours after birth. If that is so, then he hopes they have imprinted on Sookie as well.

            There is a commotion in the outer room, and he goes on immediate alert, standing and tensing as he prepares to face a possible threat, but his concern is unwarranted as he sees Vincent lugging in what appears to be come kind of chair.

            “Hey, Eric!” the young Fire Demon greets, grinning from ear-to-ear.

            The teen proudly plops the chair down on the floor, and he can see that it is a rocking chair, but a very odd one. It appears to be made from some kind of plant.

            “What is that?” he asks.

            “It’s a gift from my father. Well… actually, it’s a gift from my father’s partner, T’eir. He’s a Plant Weaver,” Vincent explains.

            “A what?”

            “A Plant Weaver. They’re nature demons. They have control over the floral world,” Izzy clarifies, coming to stand in the doorway. Her eyes are dancing with mirth.

            He examines the rocking chair. It’s a vivid shade of green, but he can see streaks of red running along some of the stems that make up the frame. The seat and back appear to be tightly interwoven vines overlaid by large, broad leaves. He’s not quite sure what to make of this “gift,” but he tries to be gracious.

            “Go on and sit in it!” Vincent encourages.

            “Yeah, go on. We named this one Audrey,” Izzy teases, and he’s sure there is a joke in there somewhere but he doesn’t get it. He picks-up a flash of a cheesy musical about a dentist and a man-eating plant. Humans have such strange, vivid imaginations sometimes.

            Giving them both odd looks, he complies and settles himself down in the chair. The moment he is seated, he can feel the chair moving, changing shape and… growing. He almost jumps out of it, but Vincent stops him.

            “It conforms itself to fit your body!”

            He pauses, waiting, and sure enough, the rocking chair alters itself to fit his large frame perfectly.

            “How very interesting,” he comments.

            “Yeah. It’s reactive, too. Like, say, one of the babies is crying, it’ll produce flowers that have soothing scents. Or if one’s mad, it’ll make flowers that will calm it.”

            “Any that will put them to sleep?”

            The teen nods. “Yeah, that too.”

            He’s beginning to see the possibilities, especially if one of the babies develops a case of colic. “I see.”

            “It doesn’t need direct sunlight. Just regular daylight or incandescent light bulbs will do, and you only have to water it once a month,” Vincent goes on.

            “How convenient,” he comments, standing and giving the chair an appraising look. “Please tell your father and T’eir that we are most grateful for their generous gift.”

            Vincent beams and nods, then cautiously approaches the vagga. He tenses, but reels in his protective instincts enough to allow the teen to peer into the cradle.

            “So that’s them, huh?” the boy says.

            “That’s them,” he confirms.

            “They’re so little. What are their names again?”

            “Agnarr and Adele,” he answers. “I know you would have preferred we name them Hagar and Helga, but I am not in the habit of naming my children after cartoon Vikings.”

            Vincent laughs and blushes. “Well, yeah, that was a joke anyway.”

            He smiles. “I know.”

            The voices in the room rouse Sookie from her slumber, and she makes a little groaning noise as she opens her eyes.

            “Hmmm? Eric?” she says sleepily. “What’s going on?”

            He leans over her and smoothes her hair away from her face. “It is nothing, my love. Vincent brought us a gift from his father.”

            “Oh, that was so nice of him,” she whispers.

            Vincent comes to stand next to the bed. “Hey, Sookie.”

            Sookie smiles at the teen, still half-asleep. “Vincent, it’s so good to see you.”

            “You too. I heard you had the kids and came over to see them.”

            She casts a loving look towards the vagga. “Yeah. My miracles.”

            He pets her again, sending soothing, calming energy through the bond. “You should go back to sleep, my love. You need your rest. I’ll wake you when it’s time to feed the little ones.”

            “Mmmhmm,” she sighs and closes her eyes. “Okay.”

            ‘ _I love you,’_ he sends.

            _‘I lo…’_ she replies, but drops back to sleep.

            “Wow, she must be really exhausted,” Vincent comments.

            “You would be too if you’d just passed the equivalent of two watermelons through a 4-inch hole,” Izzy replies. “C’mon, you brought your gift and saw the babies. Let’s go down to the dining room for breakfast and give the new father some privacy.”

            At the mention of food, Vincent perks up and smiles. “Sounds good to me. Later Eric. Later babies. Tell Sookie I’ll see her later, too.”

            “I will.”

            “Want us to bring you back anything?” Izzy asks.

            He shakes his head. “I have blood pods in the kitchen refrigerator.”

            “Okay. We’re one floor below you in Suite 318 if you need us.” She taps her temple. “Just give me a buzz.”

            He smiles. “I will.”

            The two leave the bedroom, and he hears them leaving the penthouse with Maria. A few moments later, Saroyah appears in the doorway.

            “It’ll be about another hour before they’ll need feeding again. Best to let Sookie sleep until then,” the Britlingen says.

            He nods in agreement. “Yes.”

            “I was able to recover a substantial amount of cord blood from each side of the fused placenta so you should have cord blood for both infants. I will now prepare the remainder for your wife to eat.”

            In his time the word for placenta was _móðirkaka,_ and it meant literally, “mother-cake.” It was not uncommon for women to eat the placentas of their newborn children, in keeping with the example set by the sheep and goats that always ate their placentas. It was believed that consuming the placenta provided essential nutrients to the new mother and helped with the production of milk, but the tradition has fallen out of favor in recent times.

            Saroyah has strongly advocated for Sookie to follow the practice of eating the twins’ afterbirth, and Sookie has reluctantly agreed. The midwife offered to steam, then dehydrate the placenta so it can be ground into a powder and put into capsules for Sookie to consume. There were many alternatives to preparing the afterbirth, including a placenta stew and even a placenta lasagna, but in the end drying and pulverizing was the option his mate found the easiest to stomach, no pun intended.

            “Very well,” he replies, giving the midwife his tacit approval.

            Saroyah grunts and nods before leaving him alone with his children and sleeping wife.

            “Alone at last,” he sighs, looming over the vagga.

            He has not had more than a few moments alone with his newborns since their birth, and he relishes the opportunity for some uninterrupted bonding time. In his era, fathers had little to do with the children until the official naming ceremony that took place nine days after the birth, but he is a “modern” man and fathers are expected to take a much more proactive role in their children’s upbringing. Besides, he is enamored with staring at the babies for the simple reason that he can barely believe they are here. After everything he and Sookie went through; the disappointments, the dangers, the upheavals, to finally see his two children is nothing short of amazing.

            The first thing he does is unwrap the both of them so he can examine them carefully with all of his enhanced senses. He leaves them in their diapers and skullcaps as he counts their fingers and toes (twice), and thoroughly familiarizes himself with their scents. They in turn, inspect him, reaching out to grasp his hair in their tiny hands, and staring at his face. He croons and coos to them, giving them his fingers to grip and taste.

            They explore each other for several moments. They touch and smell him as he touches and smells them, and he reaches out his mind for them to make the mental connection to him. Then he loosely wraps them back up in their blankets so he can pick them up and cradle them. He settles into the new rocking chair, surprised when it alters its shape to include “wings” to give the babies more security, and he holds them against his chest, tucked into the curve of his arms. They squirm for a minute or two, which is very disconcerting, and he fears that he might not be able to hold them both if they don’t settle down, but then he detects the subtle scents of lavender and chamomile, and the babies get quiet. He turns his head and sees that the chair has produced tiny, white flowers from which the scents are coming, and he blinks at the flowers, knowing that neither smell comes from blossoms that resemble them, and marvels at the ingenuity of demon botanists.

            But just as a plant can be engineered to soothe and comfort, so one can be made to maim and harm. He makes a mental note to look up this “Audrey” to see what Izzy’s joke is all about.

            He spends the next thirty minutes in blissful bonding with his newborns. He rocks them, hums to them, and sends them calm and tender thoughts. It is wonderful to hold them and see them and imagine what bright futures they will have. Never in his thousand years had he ever dreamed this moment was possible, and he savors it the way he used to savor good beer. His people adored and valued their children, especially since so few survived, and he wonders if this is how his father felt the first time he held his newborn son.

            _‘I am Faðir. Móðir and I will make sure you grow up big and strong. We will guide you and keep you safe. You will want for nothing all your long lives,’_ he promises.

            It is not until Agnarr begins to root around for a teat that he realizes that it is time to wake Móðir for feeding. Moving as carefully as he can, he turns in the chair and peers over at the bed, reaching out to Sookie with his mind.

_‘My lover…’_

            His call reaches her sleeping brain, and he feels her slowly rise to consciousness.

_‘Hmm?’_

_‘Our children need their mother.’_

            Coming awake, Sookie opens her eyes to see him holding their twins, and she smiles a brilliant smile.

            _‘Look at you, the proud father,’_ she says.

            He grins. “Yes, and you should be proud too.”

            She grunts as she sits up, taking stock of her surroundings, and he sees her notice the chair.

            “What is that?”

            “A new rocking chair. It is a gift from Zolan.”

            “It’s… green.”

            “It’s made from a plant. It changes shape to fit your body.”

            She blinks, not quite awake enough to process. “I have to go to the bathroom.”

            He watches as she slowly rotates to put her feet on the floor. She hasn’t left the bed since he put her in it hours ago, and he is worried about the amount of pain she will be in. He still has the bond fairly open so he can feel the ache and soreness she feels by just sitting up.

            “Are you alright?” he asks.

            She grimaces as she rises to her feet. “Yeah, just… really sore and really tired.” He nods in understanding, and she gives him a sweet smile. “Thanks for letting me sleep.”

            “You needed your rest.”

            Wincing, she makes her way slowly to the en-suite bathroom, and he hears her use the facilities (hissing as it is painful to pass water). Saroyah warned them of post-partum pain and swelling, so Sookie is aware that she will be recovering for a while. She is still bleeding and experiencing contractions as her womb shrinks, but he is muting it now that she is awake. The pain is negligible, comparing with the minor irritation of a kick in the stomach or a bad bellyache. Nothing his Sookie cannot handle even on her worst days.

            He smiles at her as she shuffles back from the bathroom, moving slowly and rubbing her tired eyes.

            “How are you feeling?” he asks.

            “Like a balloon that’s just been popped,” she replies. “I feel like I’ve lost a ton of weight, and look! I can see my feet again.”

            “Do you want to try the new chair?” he offers, smiling.

            She eyes the rocking chair suspiciously, then shakes her head. “No, I just want to go back to bed.”

            He places the babies back in the vagga – ignoring their fretting at being put down without being fed – and quickly piles pillows up for his wife to lean against while she breastfeeds. Then he helps her get into position and hands her each infant when she is ready. He lies down beside her, ready to help support either of his children should Sookie need him, and watches as both newborns begin to nurse.

            “I figure I’ll start pumping next week,” she tells him. “That way we’ll have milk ready for them, and you can feed them if I’m sleeping.”

            He nods, but is not convinced “pumping” is the best thing. In his time, there was no “pumping.” Women kept their infants with them and fed them when they got hungry. This modern practice of milking breasts to save the milk for later feeding seems unnatural to him.

            “It’ll make it easier on me,” she explains again. “Especially once I start producing a lot of milk. If I don’t pump, I’ll either have to feed the babies every time my breasts get full or let them leak all over the place. My boobs are heavy and sore enough as it is.”

            “I understand,” he replies. “You must do what will make you most comfortable.”

            “Believe me, right now, I’d like nothing more than to lie in bed, sleep, and nurse my babies every two hours, but we both know I’m too active of a woman to do that for more than a few weeks.”

            “Yes. I think it will be hard to keep you from working,” he admits unhappily.

            She frowns. “We’ve been away for so long…”

            “Pam and Quinn assure me that our businesses are flourishing in our absence. I may even keep some of the procedural changes that have been enacted because they appear to have worked out remarkably well.”

            “Sometimes fresh eyes can make a difference,” she agrees.

            “Exactly. Especially when minions have something to prove.”

            “Quinn is not a minion,” she corrects irritably.

            “Of course not,” he deadpans, giving her a blank look.

            She rolls her eyes and drops the subject. The twins are nursing, and he finds it interesting to see that they reach to touch each other even in this setting. Agnarr has stretched out his hand towards his sister, and Adele has placed her fist within his reach. They are connected mentally as well, each recognizing the other as they each see what the other looks like.

            Sookie’s baby books tell him that his children should nurse for 20-40 minutes approximately every two hours, but that some babies will eat faster or nurse longer. Since Adele and Agnarr are less than a day old, it is hard to tell how they will feed, and Sookie’s milk is still coming in, but he is certain that patterns and preferences will make themselves known soon. In the meantime, the common wisdom is to feed them every two hours unless they get hungry before then. The more regularly they nurse, the more milk Sookie will make and the faster it will be available. Because she is feeding two, how much milk she produces will have to be carefully monitored to make sure both babies are getting enough to eat. So far neither seems to be complaining about the menu.

            Lying there, watching his bonded feed his children, he wishes he could take a picture of the sight. Sookie is relaxed against the pillows, cradling both infants lengthwise along each arm as they suckle, and the image is a beautiful sight.

            “You look so beautiful,” he tells her.

            “I am so happy,” she replies.

            He grins. “I know. I can feel it. I am happy too.”

            She smiles, still glowing from her supreme accomplishment, and rests her head against the pillows. “It’s still like a dream to me. I can hardly believe this is real.”

            “It’s real. Believe me, it’s real, and reality will settle in as soon as you smell their first dirty diaper.”

            She laughs and gives him a teasing look. “Will you walk around with a clothespin pinched around your nose?”

            “Wouldn’t help. Besides, most vampires inure themselves to scents most humans would find unbearable.”

            He sees the images of the Pelt girl and the mess having a hole blown into her with a shotgun made in Sookie’s kitchen. “I know.”

            “Are you hungry? Shall I ring the kitchen and have something brought up?” he asks.

            “I should be, but I’m not. Tummy’s a little unsettled probably because I’m sore. Maybe later. I should drink though. Need to keep up my fluid intake.”

            “I’ll get something for you,” he says, sliding off the bed and rising to his feet.

            “Where is everyone?” she questions.

            “Maria and Izzy took Vincent down to the dining room for some food. Saroyah is in the kitchen, preparing the afterbirth.”

            The look she gives him is almost comical, and he suppresses a smile.

            “Well, if I wasn’t queasy already, I certainly am now. Ugh. I know I agreed, but still…”

            “If it is any consolation, I know of at least one occasion where my mother ate the boiled afterbirth of one of my siblings,” he comments.

            “Why did she do that?”

            He frowns, remembering. Sometimes it is hard to recall his mother’s face. He can see his brothers, and his little sister, and he can vividly pull up the memory of the sounds and smells of his village, of a raid at dawn, of fresh beer… but his mother, his father – their faces are hazy and out of focus.

            “Móðir had been sick a lot while she was pregnant, and the child weighed on her more than usual. After the baby was born, her milk was slow to come in so the læknir _,_ the healer _,_ told her to eat the afterbirth to help bring it down,” he says softly, struggling to bring his mother’s face into focus.

            Sookie looks at him for several moments, her expression expectant, but he does not know what she is waiting for.

            “And?” she prompts.

            “And what?” he answers, confused.

            “Did it work? Did eating the afterbirth help her make milk?”

            “I don’t know. The baby was sickly and died.”

            “Oh,” she whispers in a small voice. “That happened a lot, didn’t it?”

            He nods. “Life was much harder then. Lifespans were short. By the time a man reached the age of fifty, he was considered very old.”

            “I am sure if anyone lived to be thirty, it was considered a long life.”

            “We were counted as men by the age of twelve. Many married by the time they were sixteen. Women started having children almost soon as they could. The onset of a girl’s first moon blood was cause for celebration and betrothal.”

            He sees her wince, but shrugs. In today’s age, teenagers are children, and the common wisdom is to keep them ignorant and immature until the wholly random and meaningless age of eighteen. In his day, children grew up fast out of necessity and eighteen was considered almost middle age.

            “I’m glad our babies were born in today’s age. They can look forward to a long and healthy life,” she says, bending down to kiss each of their newborns on the head.

            They’ve stopped nursing and are now drowsing against Sookie, their little ears close to their mother’s heart. He smiles.

            “I’ll go get you something to drink,” he tells her and leaves the room.

            He finds Saroyah in the penthouse’s kitchen, watching a tightly closed pot carefully. She gives him a nod as he enters, and he nods back.

            “How is Sookie?” the midwife asks.

            “Tired and sore, but happy.”

            “And the little ones?”

            “They just finished eating.”

            “They will need burped and changed,” she says gruffly, with almost an accusing edge to her voice.

            “I will see to it, but for now my wife is thirsty. I came to get her something to drink.”

            “I have prepared a special formula for her. It is in the refrigerator in the blender container.”

            He opens the refrigerator and spies the tall, graduated container. Within it is a grayish mixture. He takes the container by the handle and pulls it out with a suspicious look on his face.

            “What is this?” he asks. There is no way his bonded is going to drink this.

            “A high protein drink designed for lactating and post-partum women. It also has some of the placenta mixed into it.”

            He takes the lid off the container and peers dubiously down into the viscous goo. It smells truly vile. “I do not think Sookie will drink this,” he states, crinkling his nose.

            “Dilute it half and half with the vanilla soymilk,” she snips.

            He growls low at her attitude, but she levels him with an “I know better” stare. Glaring, he retrieves the carton of soymilk and pours equal measures of it and the “protein” drink into a tall glass. It’s still vile, but only half as much, but he errs on the side of caution and brings a glass of water with him as he returns to the bedroom.

            Sookie is still resting against the pillows, but the newborns have stopped nursing and both are now snuggled on her chest, supported by one arm as she coos to them and strokes their backs.

            “The Britlingen bids you to drink this,” he states, thrusting the glass of goo towards her as if it offends him.

            Sookie frowns at him. She knows he only calls Saroyah “the Britlingen” when he is displeased, and she eyes the glass suspiciously.

            “What is it?”

            “A drink meant to help you make milk and recover from the birth.”

            She scrunches up her nose and creases her brow. “It’s got placenta in it, doesn’t it.”

            “Yes.”

            She makes a face and he offers the water instead. “I brought this instead if you wish to refuse the other.”

            “No, no,” she says with a sigh. “I promised Saroyah, and I am sure I’ve suffered worse.”

            He grunts as he hands her the glass of protein drink and watches as she drinks it as fast as she can. She gags on it a bit and slams the glass on the bedside table as she reaches out a desperate hand.

            “Water!” she chokes, retching.

            He quickly gives her the second glass and she gulps it down.

            “Oh God,” she sputters, making many displeased faces that are almost comical. “I can’t believe I just did that. Oh, oh, that was awful.”

            “And there is more in the kitchen,” he informs.

            “Ugh!”

            He smiles and sits on the edge of the bed, reaching out to touch each infant with his fingertips.

_‘My children.’_

            Sookie lifts her free hand to hold his and smiles.

            _‘I love you,’_ she tells him, her mind full of joy and completion.

_‘And I love you, my lover, so very, very much.’_

            Their eyes meet and he falls into them, sinking into their blue depths as he has done so many times since he met this amazing woman who turned his whole ordered life upside down. The love he feels for her cannot be described or contained. He only knows that he would move the heavens for her if she wanted him to.

            The tender moment is broken by Saroyah entering the room.

            “Good, you drank the protein drink,” the midwife states.

            Sookie glares at the empty glass. “Yes. It was disgusting.”

            “The worse it tastes, the better it is for you,” Saroyah replies, then indicates the drowsing twins snuggled against their mother’s breasts. “They have finished nursing?”

            “Yes. I burped them, but…”

            “They will need changed,” the older woman finishes, reaching down to pick up Adele.

            There is a special table set up in the room for keeping supplies and changing dirty diapers, and Eric watches as Saroyah takes Adele over to it to change her. Agnarr wakes the moment his sister is no longer in his sight, and he begins to fuss. Sookie tries to soothe him, but he starts to cry, so Eric lifts him into his arms and carries him to where he can see his sibling.

            Saroyah cleans and puts Adele into a fresh diaper then wraps her back up in the swaddling blanket before putting her in the drakkar vagga, then she reaches for Agnarr and he hands his son over. He looms close, watching as the Britlingen removes Agnarr’s soiled diaper and wipes him clean with a moist baby towelette, and he smiles at the boy. His son is perfect in every way.

            His fangs come down as he swells with pride. He is a father. He has a strong son. He has fulfilled his duty to his family line and produced an heir.

_‘Agnarr, my firstborn.’_

            His proud mental litany is interrupted by a splash of warm liquid hitting him on his bare chest, and he looks down to realize that his perfect firstborn has urinated on him. Saroyah smirks at his stunned expression.

            “Welcome to fatherhood. Towels are in the middle drawer.”


	19. Chapter 19

A/N: In this chapter, Eric performs the Viking ancient rite of naming, also known as the _ausa vatni._ _I owe much love to the vikinganswerlady com and cauldronborn blogspot for the details and specifics of this rite, otherwise I would have been clueless._

_I know some of you will notice that I say that this is the first time Eric has performed the rite of naming. This is because the Let Love In universe takes place in an alternate timeline where “Dead and Gone” never happened. Eric wasn’t married, he didn’t have six kids, and his maker isn’t a Roman soldier vampire. Claudine’s still alive, there was no Fairy War, and Sookie was never tortured._

_This is also the LAST chapter of Hope. There will be a short epilogue, but for all intents and purposes, Hope is complete. Yay, we made it. I do hope to go back and write “Something Old” and “Paper Windows” one of these days, but I have no idea when as real life is a real be-otch and just finishing Hope has been an extreme struggle._

_I thank all of you for hanging with me and for all your encouragement and reviews. It’s been a wild ride and I’m glad I had so many wonderful people along with me._

 

Chapter Nineteen

 

            Sookie is asleep again, and it concerns him. He knows that it is normal for a woman to be completely spent after giving birth, but this exhaustion is something he has not witnessed before. Saroyah says it is nothing out of the ordinary, but he still longs to give her his blood to make her better. He knows that Sookie decided not to take his blood while she was nursing the babies for fear of what vampire blood would do to her milk, and he respects her decision. Still, he aches to heal her, to ease her pain and weariness with a sip of his blood. It is almost a compulsion within him to feed her as she feeds his children.

            The man **_must_** provide for the woman who preserves his family line.

            This is not a vampire feeling. It is something older than vampirism. It is the deeply ingrained instinct for a man to protect and provide for a breeding female. Over the generations of human evolution, these strong instincts have been diluted by technology and modern cities. No longer do women starve because the men could not find game. No longer must men build shelters from winter’s cold or gather firewood to keep the shelters warm. Now men go to the grocery store and someone else builds the shelters. Men must gather money instead of wood and hunt jobs instead of game.

            But he is at heart a thousand-year-old man, and his instincts are sharp and strong. If it were winter, he would feel the imperative to go out into the snow to hunt and bring down a boar or stag for fresh meat. He would grab his bow and his deer drag, and go out into the cold. He almost wants to go into the lake and bring back a haul of fresh fish to skewer and roast over the fire pit on the patio just to show his mate that he is a good provider.

            He doubts Sookie will appreciate this, but he knows quite a few patrons of the Isle would understand his deep need. There are a number of demons here who are older than him by many, many centuries. Anytime there is a gathering of immortals like this, there are always those who remember times long past and deeds long ago done. Often he finds such reminiscing boring, but today he would find comfort in their understanding.

            Looking over at his sleeping wife in the bed, and his newborn children cuddled together in the vagga he has carved, he feels such a fierce joy and love that he is nearly overwhelmed with it. He is in such awe that he almost doesn’t care that his son urinated on him and his daughter spit up on his shoulder when Saroyah tried to teach him how to burp the baby. It was so hard to temper his pats to be gentle enough not to crush his newborn daughter’s back.

            In the future, he thinks he will allow Sookie to do this for fear that one day he will pat too hard and do damage. The children are so fragile. Their bones are like spun glass, their skin like parchment paper to his hard flesh. When he picks them up, he does so with great care and gentleness. Very few in his retinue will ever witness the tenderness with which he lifts them into his arms or strokes their tiny cheeks. Such displays are only for those closest to him and his family.

            He gives his children a final coo and a rock to the cradle before rising to his feet and making a patrol of his territory. He does not believe there are any real threats, but his instincts demand that he check the perimeter of his domain for intruders and that which Does Not Belong. He circles the edge of his section of the roof. It is overcast, but he still feels the slight thrill of being out in daylight, and part of him wonders if Elena’s protection would keep him from being burned even without her ring. He is in her domain, and the rules of nature and physics are bent to Her will on this tiny plot of land, but he isn’t quite bold enough to test the theory. He does not want to explain to Sookie why he is sporting second-degree burns on his body should he be proven incorrect. He does not know which would be more painful: the wounds or his wife’s wrath, and he isn’t about to find out.

            He reenters the penthouse and moves to the interior perimeter, sniffing around the hallway and cataloging the scents he smells. He identifies the known odors and files the unknowns away for later examination. He is glad to know that there have been no strange males venturing close to his territory, and he smiles smugly to himself. It would seem even a vampire can instill fear in much older and stronger demons. No one wants to tangle with a territorial new father – especially an undead one. It goes to show how smart demons can be. Much smarter than most humans he knows.

            Looking down off the balcony that hangs over the Great Room, he is surprised to see that there is still quite a crowd hanging around. A few look up when he is spied on the balcony, and they wave at him, smiling. He smiles back and waves, but he wonders why they are still there hours after the successful birth.

            _‘They’re waiting for you to bring them out,’_ Izzy’s mindvoice informs him, and he looks over the side of the balcony to see her sitting on another one floor below them. He remembers her telling him that they were staying in Suite 318. She has her feet up and a glass of something is on the table next to her.

            _‘Bring them out?’_ he questions.

_‘Yeah, you know, present them to their adoring public. They’re waiting to see what the offspring of a vampire and a human looks like.’_

            He snorts. _‘They look like human babies.’_

_‘You forget most of these demons have either never seen a human baby or it’s been so long since they’ve seen one, they forget what one looks like.’_

            That makes him smile and nod. _‘True. True.’_

_‘Everything okay?’_

_‘Yes. Sookie is tired. She sleeps a lot, but Saroyah tells me this is normal.’_

_‘It is. Mia slept for almost forty-eight hours after Sparky was born, but then, she lost a great deal of blood.’_

            He nods, remembering the story of Vincent’s birth. Maria hemorrhaged during labor, and the young Fire Demon’s first Act of Fire was to cauterize the ruptured blood vessel in his mother’s womb. From all accounts, he’d saved her life.

_‘I will not worry just yet. The babies are sleeping a lot too.’_

_‘Be glad. You’ll wish they’d sleep when they’re two and running around like energizer bunnies.’_

            He chuckled and smiled, knowing Izzy would see it even from her vantage point below him. He had no illusions that all too soon he would hear the patter of little feet running through the house, and he frowns. They will have to “baby-proof” the house to ensure that the twins do not get into anything they are not supposed to.

            _‘And don’t forget to baby-proof the pool,’_ Izzy reminded.

            _‘Yes, good idea.’_

_‘There are these pool alarms and you can get high quality pool covers and fences.’_

            He nods, considering the options available to him. He thinks that his children’s telepathy will go a long way to helping keep them safe. There are advantages to being able to call for help directly into a parent’s mind.

 _‘I will look into it,’_ he agrees.

            His internal clock tells him that he has been away from his family for too long, so he nods a farewell to Izzy and reenters the penthouse. He feels the intruder as soon as he crosses the threshold and he grinds his teeth, pushing off the carpet with his feet to catapult himself into the bedroom.

            He arrives in the bedroom with a snarl, his feet skidding on the rug so fast they leave scorch marks, but his protective rage is cut short when he sees who is standing next to the vagga. The Goddess raises Her head to look at him when he finally comes to a staggering halt, and She gives him a soft smile.

            “My Lady,” he says softly, bowing. He keeps his voice low so as not to wake Sookie who is still fast asleep in the bed.

            “My faithful one,” Elena replies. “I have come to see your treasures.”

            All at once he realizes that he has been lax in extending an invitation to his patrons to visit the children. Agnarr and Adele are almost fourteen hours old, and he has not brought the newborns to meet their divine benefactors. He berates himself for his oversight.

            “Of course, my Lady. Forgive me. I meant to bring them to the shrine but there has not been time and Sookie has been sleeping…”

            The Goddess waves a hand to stop him. “The infants are less than a day old. I am not insulted. I merely wished to see them. It has been so long since new life has been born on my island.”

            He moves to stand next to the Goddess, both looking down at the two sleeping infants in the vagga. He does not want to wake them. They will wake soon enough once they need feeding, but if Elena wants to hold them, he will do it. She does not, however, seem interested in disturbing them.

            “You carved this cradle by hand?” he hears Elena ask.

            “Yes, My Lady. It was our custom for the child’s grandfather to carve the vagga, but since I am old enough to be my children’s very-great-grandfather, I performed the task myself. Besides, I know of no one alive or undead today who can carve a drakkar the old way.”

            “It is a work of art. I can see the love with which it was made.”

            “Thank you.”

            He sees Her place one hand on the dragonhead, Her long fingers tracing the fearsome mouth and carved crest.

            “We intended to hold a ceremony in the shrine, to make proper offerings on sacred ground,” he explains.

            Elena smiles wryly. “This place is my sanctuary. The entire island is sacred ground. The shrine is no more holy than the rocks and the trees. It is merely the physical totem to the Divine that others seem to need. But your people had it right. All of your _hovs_ were outdoors. The Druids’ too. I’ve always liked the druids.” She sighs sadly. “I miss the druids. I was in England for a time, before the Romans and Christianity came. I was happy there, before it all fell apart. War. Hatred. Religious zealotry. It seems that peace is something everyone longs for but no one seems willing to keep.”

            Eric sees Her raise Her head and look off into a distance only She can see.

            “But this is my place, my island, and I keep it safe out of place and time. This sanctuary is my last stand against the madness.”

            “You know you can count upon me to defend it if needed,” he vows.

            She smiles. “I know, my faithful one, my brave warrior, and I thank you.”

            He bows his head. “There are no words or deeds I could ever say or do that would repay my debt to you and Hlin.”

            He hears Her chuckle. “Would it displease you to hear that We did almost nothing? Small miracles, my faithful one. It was nothing to Us to ensure the babes stayed safe in the womb. We both are women after all,” She reveals, placing a hand over Her womb.

            He has a response, but before he can voice it, he sees Her focus Her attention on the rocking chair, Her eyes opening in surprise.

            “It was a gift,” he explains as She makes Her way over to the chair. He is shocked to see the twisted vines that make up the chair uncurl to reach towards Her hand when She reaches out to touch it.

            “This is Plant Weaver work,” She whispers.

            “Yes. From Vincent’s father, Zolan. His… partner is a Plant Weaver.”

            “As is Maria. She will come into her power soon. I have felt it.”

            Elena’s reply surprises him. He knows that the Soul Healer has a talent with plants, but he has never associated that talent with anything more than an exceptional green thumb. He files the information away for future scrutiny. He has met T’eir only once in the last decade, but the impression the demon made upon him is lasting. Unlike Zolan who could pass for human, his Plant Weaver partner (he admits to being uncertain as to what that term entails – especially after meeting said “partner,” but he is almost afraid to ask) only remotely resembles a human being.

            T’eir is tall, taller than his own considerable height, but his stature is like that of a tree, long and narrow. His arms are like thin branches ending in twig-like, four-fingered hands. His face is too fine and flawless to be human, his ears little cones that peak out from a head of long, pale green hair. His eyes are slanted, the irises vivid green, and he dresses in a flowing, diaphanous drape that reveals nothing of his gender, if he even has one.

            Eric cannot imagine the small, vibrant Gypsy becoming anything like the Plant Weaver, and he hopes Elena does not mean the woman will evolve into such a being. He hears the Goddess’s wry chuckle and remembers that She is telepathic like his bonded.

            “No. There are plant weavers and Plant Weavers. One is a talent, the other is a species,” She explains with humor, and he smiles to show his relief.

            The Goddess sighs and runs a covetous hand along the armrest of the chair, smiling as the vines seek to wrap themselves about Her fingers as they burst into fragrant yellow blossoms.

            “Ah, for the days when such magics were commonplace and the world was full of inexplicable wonder,” She whispers, but then her wistful face hardens and She pulls Her hand away. “No. Let that stay gone. Those days are better off lost to time, and the world is better off consigning itself to mediocrity. Those with true Power always found a way to corrupt it.”

            He realizes that She is speaking mostly to Herself so he keeps silent, processing her verbal musings and divining their meaning, until he sees Her smile down at the twins again and touch the dragonhead.

            “Let us have our small miracles, because they are the ones that mean the most.”

            He swells with pride at the sight of his children and grins.

            “You have names picked out, yes?” She asks him.

            “Oh yes, my Lady, we have…”

            She stops him with a wave of her hand. “It is the custom of your people for the children to be named at a ceremony nine days after birth, is it not?”

            He blinks and nods. “Yes, my Lady.”

            “Then I will learn their names then.”

            He nods and bows, pleased that She respects his people’s traditions. “As you wish, My Lady.”

            She gives him a final smile and then She is gone. He takes a moment to hover over the vagga, looking down at the two sleeping infants nestled within it, before sliding into the bed to snuggle beside Sookie. All too soon, the babies will need feeding, and she will wake to tend them, but for now she sleeps the sleep of the exhausted – and well deserved sleep too – and he is tired too. He buries his face in the wealth of her blond hair and closes his eyes.

 

********

 

            Nine days later find him and Sookie standing in the sanctified space of an outdoor _hov_. He is dressed in his cloak and tunic, his leather pants and tall boots hugging his legs; his ancestral sword is fastened securely to his waist. Sookie is dressed in a flowing gown of pale, ice blue with halter straps and a fitted bodice. She stands next to him with bare feet - better to touch the Earth - and her hair is loose and radiant. Everything about her is radiant, and he does not think he can love her more than he does on this night, but he has felt this way before and he has always been shocked at how much he is proven wrong. Tonight, however, his heart is full and he feels like a mortal man. It is the greatest compliment he can give her.

            Gathered around them are some of the demons and deities they have called friends over the years, all of them waiting for the Naming Ceremony to begin. His patron Goddesses and their consorts are among the guests, dressed in their formal splendor. They glow faintly in the darkness, their supernatural auras haloing their bodies. Also present are Maria, Izzy and Vincent, as they should be because they have been with them almost from the beginning. With them, much to his surprise, are Zolan and T’eir. He had not expected the Fire Demon to come, and he is certainly shocked to see his Plant Weaver consort. It is not that they are unwelcome; it is just unexpected. Very little calls the Fire Demon from his home in another dimension, and he wonders what promises Maria had to make in order to get Zolan to attend – then again, maybe she didn’t have to promise anything and he simply wished to be here. With Zolan, one never knows and he has learned not to waste any brain cells trying to figure out the Fire Demon’s motivations.

            A simple rope marks the boundary of the sacred grove, a fire is lit at the one end, and a small sacred altar stands beside it. Upon the altar lay a drinking vessel made from the horn of a bull, a bowl of water that has been Blessed by Hlin Herself, cask of very fine quality ale, a wood and iron hammer, and sprig of evergreen from an Eastern Red Cedar tree growing on the island.

            He and Baldr Himself went into the forest to gather the sprig that would serve as the _hlauteinn_ for the ceremony. He was a bit cowed and surprised when the god came with him, but Hlin’s consort is the officiant for the ceremony, and it was His duty to accompany the new father on his quest for the _hlauteinn_. Baldr is the only one who knows the old rites, and He was there to make sure Eric harvested the sprig properly – asking the cedar for the branch and giving an offering to the tree for its gift. It was so odd to be performing the old ceremonies, but the memory was as fresh in his mind as if he had done them yesterday, although he admits to never having done this particular ceremony before.

            Oddly he finds the God to be pleasant company. Baldr was known for His kind and gentle disposition, and in that the Sagas prove true. The tall, ancient Immortal spoke of times long past and ancient ways even the oldest of the Aesir have nearly forgotten, and Eric hung on His every word, reliving his own past in the telling of the tales. When they came to the towering evergreen on the north side of the island, Baldr looked up into the tall branches and smiled. Eric had smiled, too, and placed a hand on the reddish bark, feeling the tree’s life under his fingers.

            Now it is dark, and Baldr has blessed the _hov_ and sanctified the altar and the items upon it. Vincent, dressed in an intricately embroidered, high collared shirt and black pants, has been given the honor of acting as the “steersman,” drumming slowly on a bodrhan, and providing the beat of the ceremony. Eric shivers to hear the invocations to Odin the allfather, the ancestral protective spirits of both his and Sookie’s families, Thor and Mother Earth. With each invocation, Toth fills the horn with the ale so the God can make the offering, then a few drops of the “sacrifice” are spilled into the blessed water. When the blessings are complete, the gathered guests are sprinkled with the ale sprayed from the wet needles of the _hlauteinn,_ then the remaining ale is poured onto the earth.

            Throughout the invocations and the blessings, his children are laid out upon the ground on a woven blanket. Saroyah kneels next to them, keeping the babies calm and settled until their part in the ceremony begins. It will be the last duty of the midwife to her charges before she returns to her home dimension, her contract complete. He cannot say that he will not miss the woman; for all their differences, he has found her to be a strong fighter and a worthy ally.

            When the time comes, Saroyah picks up Agnarr and places the boy into his arms. Both babies are dressed in handmade, white silk garments that have been embroidered with fine thread. He makes the expected inspection of the child as he would have had he been a mortal man looking at his newborn son and judging his worthiness to become part of the family. Sookie comes to stand beside him – a change to reflect the modern age. A thousand years ago, only the father would have participated in this rite, but his wife is beside him, as she should be. She did all the work anyway, so there is no reason for her not to be here. He smiles at his own progressive thinking.

            Baldr dips the _hlauteinn_ into the ale-blessed water and hands the bough to him. As they sprinkle the baby’s head with the water and make the sign of Thor’s Hammer over his forehead, he and Sookie recite the words, “We acknowledge you as our son and name you Agnarr Corbett Northman.”

            “Agnarr, I am your father. I never thought I would ever be a father. I did not think such a thing would ever be possible, but here you are and you are a miracle. You are my son and I love you. I will love you no matter what, and I will provide for you and protect you all the days and nights of your life. When the time comes I will teach you the ways of your ancestors and give you a sword. I will guide you as best as I can, and I will support you in whatever you do.” _‘Even if you want to be a ballet dancer,’_ he adds mentally, feeling Sookie’s mild irritation across the bond.

            She is somewhat mollified by his admission, and she smiles at him as she begins her own vows to their son.

            “Agnarr, I am your mother. I will love you and nurture you and try to help you become the best person you can possibly be. I will always do whatever I can for you and try to give you everything that you need. I will do my best to teach how to be a good person and a strong man. And I will support you and help you in whatever way I can no matter what you decide to do in life.” _‘Even if you decide that you want to be like your father.’_

            Agnarr blinks at them, his little mind whirring with half formed thoughts and eddies of emotion. He doesn’t seem to mind being held or sprayed with water laced with ale, or even being loomed over by his parents. No, he’s a perfect angel until it’s time for him to be put back down so Adele can be formally named. The moment he is placed on the ground and his sister picked up and taken from his sight, he begins to scream.

            This is typical for him as they quickly learned that he cannot abide being separated from his twin. They know it will be a problem later on, but for now, the solution is to have Saroyah hold Agnarr where he can see his sister, and the baby settles down. It is interesting that, while Adele fusses when she cannot see her brother, she does not break out into fits. Sookie speculates this is because Adele’s telepathy appears to be more powerful than Agnarr’s, and she can sense her brother’s presence even when she cannot see him. It is an interesting theory.

            Once Agnarr ceases his crying, the ceremony continues with Baldr handing Eric the _hlauteinn._ This time, he does not sprinkle his daughter, but hands the _hlauteinn_ to Sookie so that she may do the honors. She gives him a small smile as she accepts the bough and shakes it lightly to christen their little girl while he makes the sign of Thor’s Hammer over Adele’s forehead.

            “We acknowledge you as our daughter and name you Adele Etta Northman,” they recite in unison as the water lands in droplets on the baby’s head.

            “Adele, I’m your mother, and I love you with all my heart. You are my precious baby girl, and I cannot wait to see what a beautiful woman you are going to grow up to be. I promise stand beside you all the way, and I’ll teach you everything I know about how to be a good, Southern woman who is sweet as pecan pie but as strong as iron. I’ll show you all the things my Gran taught me, and tell you all about the amazing woman you are named after, and I will do my best to support you no matter what.” _‘Even if you decide to become a valkyrie and ride around on a dragon.’_

            “Adele, I am your father, and I vow to always protect you and provide for you. I promise you that you will want for nothing, and that I will always be here for you. I will watch over you and guide you and defend your honor against all those who would try to harm you. I will love you and do whatever I can to help you, no matter what, for all the days and nights of your life.” _‘Even if you grow up to be as stubborn and frustrating as your mother.’_

            _‘Stubborn and frustrating, huh?’_ he hears Sookie reply, but she’s smiling and there’s no anger coming across the bond so he knows she isn’t really angry.

            Neither of them has yet to come down from the high of new parenthood, the blissful euphoria that comes from seeing their newborns, so little teases do not bother her. Part of him wonders when the “newness” will wear off, and he hopes it never will. His children are too much of a miracle to take for granted for a single moment.

            When the naming and parental vows are complete, their guests clap and cheer. Someone blows a plethora of soap bubbles that Adele finds fascinating when they float by her face, and her laughter makes them all grin, then Baldr steps forth to give the final blessing and farewell that ends the rite and begins the feast and party. It was his people’s custom to give a newborn a name-gift upon his or her naming, and the tradition is held tonight as they are showered with well wishes and presents for the babies.

            As the celebration goes into full swing, Eric finds himself almost wishing he could take part in the food and drink. He vividly remembers the feasts of his youth, the raucous festivals of gluttony and drunkenness that made his head spin and his heart soar. He can smell the ale being passed around and he can tell that it is a good brew, thick and rich and it probably tastes like a field of barley. He wants to grab a stein and drink it down, wants to feel the warmth flooding into his limbs as he rides the waves of alcoholic bliss, but he cannot – at least not like that anymore.

            Someone brings him a warm pint of AB bloodvine laced with fey bloodvine, just a touch, just enough to make his ears buzz, and he downs it like a Frat boy with something to prove. Another is placed in his hand as the music begins to spill out of the open doors of the lodge’s dining room where the guests are making their way out of the woods to the deck where a staggering selection of food and drink is being offered. It is unfortunate that the crowd of people, however well-meaning they might be, is triggering his protective instincts because there’s just too many of them. Luckily, Saroyah and Izzy are already one step ahead of him, and they take the guests of honor up to the penthouse. It’s late and it’s getting too loud for babies’ sensitive ears.

            He convinces Sookie to let the Britlingen and their friend take the infants up to the room so they will be away from the noise and the press of so many minds. As budding telepaths only a few days old, shielding is an issue, and protecting their fragile minds from too many intruding thoughts is a priority. In time, they will be able to block the unwanted thoughts themselves, but for now Adele and Agnarr depend upon protective spells anchored around the vagga to filter out any errant thoughts or feelings.

            Sookie lasts about ninety minutes after the babies go to bed before she excuses herself to return to their suite. She is tired and she wants to nurse the children before she turns in. He follows shortly afterwards and finds her just finishing up with the changing and burping with Saroyah’s help. He considers asking the midwife if she would be willing to extend her contract a few more months, but he decides to discuss it with Sookie first.

            He hears his wife sigh as she peels herself out of the gown she is wearing and hangs it on a padded hanger. He leers at her standing there in nothing but her thigh-highs and a pair of lace panties, but she just gives him an exasperated look.

            _‘Don’t even think about it. I am too tired to do anything but crawl into bed and pass out,’_ she warns him, cutting off his amorous thoughts.

            He sighs and begins undressing, keeping a retort about how all she would have to do is lay there and he’d do everything tightly bottled in. The euphoria of new parenthood notwithstanding, a comeback like that is guaranteed to earn him no sex for a month, and he’s no masochist.

            He sits on the edge of the bed and drops his boots to the floor as he yanks them off. They land with a heavy thump and Sookie scowls at him.

_‘Quiet. The babies are trying to sleep, and if you get them roused up so help me…’_

            _‘You’ll skewer me with my own sword. Understood,’_ he replies drolly, unhappy that not only will he not be having sex, but that his wife is scolding him. So much for blissful family life.

            A wave of regret comes across the bond and he glances up to see Sookie looking at him with a contrite expression on her face.

_‘I’m sorry. I don’t mean to be crabby, I’m just all worn out.’_

_‘We’re new parents. I’m told this exhaustion is normal,’_ he answers.

            _‘I know, and to be honest, I was more tired when I was still pregnant and lugging around all that weight, but this feels different. I feel…’_ she fumbles, coming to sit beside him on the bed. She changed into a long nightgown, and he can see her bare feet peeking out from the ruffled hem.

 _‘Hollowed out?’_ he offers, half teasing.

            She chuckles and slaps him on the arm half-heartedly. _‘I should have known you’d say something like that.’_

            He smiles and kisses her cheek tenderly. _‘Yes, but you love me anyway.’_

_‘I do.’_

            They share a sweet smile and loving look before he shifts backwards to lie on the bed. Sookie crawls in beside him and settles down, one arm draped across his chest. He holds her close and sinks into her scent and the feel of their minds merging in the bond.

            _‘Agh, what a day,’_ he hears her say with a mental sigh.

_‘It was a good day.’_

_‘Yeah. That was some party, huh?’_

_‘My people knew how to throw a drunken beer fest,’_ he says with some pride.

_‘The ceremony was nice too. It was very nice of Baldr to be the officiant.’_

            _‘Yes, it was. He was pleasant company when we went out to look for a bough to be the hlauteinn.’_

_‘I’m glad. I’m glad it went so well, but I’m also glad it’s over because I’m beyond pooped.’_

He kisses her hair and rubs her earlobe between two of his fingers to soothe her. _‘Then sleep, my lover, and I will guard your rest.’_

 _‘I think I could sleep for a week and still be tired. And just think, in two or three months we’ll be doing this again in church,’_ she reminds him.

 _‘I think I might burst into flames if I set foot in a church,’_ he replies with a scowl.

            _‘Oh you stop. You know that business of vampires bursting into flames in churches is just a bunch of hooey.’_

_‘I had to try. Can I wear my regalia to the christening?’_

_‘Yes to the tunic and cape, but no to the pants and sword.’_

_‘So everything above the waist is okay? My lover I can’t very well go into a church wearing nothing on my lower half.’_

            She huffs and pinches him, just missing one nipple.

            _‘A little further to the left,’_ he prompts, but all that does is earn him a kick in the shin. _‘Ouch.’_

            _‘So sorry,’_ she apologizes.

_‘Truly?’_

            ‘ _Not really.’_

_‘Hmph. Didn’t think so.’_

            She laughs and he feels her settle further down into the covers to sleep.

 _‘You know, our children got a lot of great gifts tonight, but the one thing they got that meant the most didn’t cost anything at all,’_ she comments, half-asleep.

            _‘Oh? And what is that, my lover?’_

_‘Our unconditional love and support.’_

            The words hit home and he almost feels his dead heart beat just so it could skip one. Instead he mentally latches onto Sookie’s pulse and tries to imagine what it would feel like to have her heart beating in his chest. Sometimes he wonders that, if he did have a heartbeat, would it slow down or speed up to match hers.

            _‘True,’_ he agrees and lets his eyes wander over to the drakkar vagga where he can hear the steady breathing of his children in the cradle.

 _‘The unconditional love and support of their family is the most important thing?’_ he asks himself before cracking his mouth into a wide grin _. ‘Yes. The greatest blessing a child can have is the love and care of his family and kin.’_

            He sends all the love and awe he feels towards his children, wrapping them in a cocoon of safety and affection.

            _‘Sleep well, my darlings._ _Móðir and Faðir are here_. _’_

            From within the cradle comes a small gurgle, and he begins to sing an old lullaby, easing his newborns and his tired wife into restful sleep.


	20. Epilogue

Epilogue

 

            Lying on a lounge chair on the isle's sandy shore, Eric looks like any other vacationing beachgoer with his sleeveless, white muscle shirt and garish "Bermuda" shorts in a bright floral pattern; a pair of dark sunglasses is perched on his nose to filter out the bright July sun. All he needs is a visor cap and a fancy tropical drink with one of those useless paper umbrellas to complete the picture. He already has the "smokin' hot babe" on the lounge chair next to him, so he has that part covered nicely. His hair is pulled back in a neat ponytail, a big improvement over the ridiculous, twin-braided pigtails his daughter had insisted on plaiting it into last night.

            "All the Vikings in the operas wear it like this with those helmets with the horns," his little princess had told him.

            "But my dearest, those aren't real Vikings. Real Vikings never wore helmets like that, my sweet," he had replied. "And trust me, Papa knows these things."

            But there was no arguing with a seven-year old who knows everything, so in the end he'd let her do what she wanted and prayed no one took any pictures when he wasn't looking.

            _'You have to admit, though, you did look kinda hot,'_ his bonded sends him with a smirk.

            He looks over at his bikini-clad wife and grins. _'Well, if you think so, my lover, then it must be true.'_

            _'And to think after all this time, I've finally gotten you trained.'_

            He growls and bares his fangs, but considering he has a dollop of bright white sunscreen on his nose, the menacing effect of his warning is severely diminished. Sookie grins then laughs, shaking her head before she returns to reading her book. In an age where the written word is so often replaced by the digital one, his mate is one of the few people he knows who still enjoys actual, physically printed books to read. He's often offered to get her an e-reader – he has one himself – but always she has refused, saying she prefers the heaviness of the book in her hand and the feel of the paper on her fingertips as she turns the pages.

            _'Besides, my book will never run out of battery life in the middle of a juicy part,'_ his mate quips.

            _'That is what solar powered chargers are for,'_ he counters.

            _'This from a man who only goes out in daylight once a year,'_ she jibes back, and he can see her suppressing a smile.

            She is, of course, referring to this very day, his Sun Day: the one day every year when he spends the entire day out in daylight with his wife and family courtesy of Elena's ring and Eros's mint leaves. The Sun Day is a carefully planned event, and a closely guarded secret. Official Sun Days are only held on Isle Elena, where he and his family are safe and the other guests and staff will keep his secret. There are other, unofficial, Sun Days, but those are usually unplanned and involve some measure of necessity, either for the protection of his family or mitigating circumstances.

            It took his daughter several months to understand that not all Sundays were Sun Days, and it wasn't until he described the two in Old Norse (where the words for Sunday and Sun Day are in no way alike – silly English being what it is) that she grasped the concept. That his children are multi-lingual goes without saying; it is just that they speak four contemporary languages and two that are considered "dead." Agnarr seems to have a greater talent for them, and he often speaks in a pigeon of several of them all at once. In this it is good that they are all telepathic because Sookie often loses track of which language is being spoken, and she would otherwise be hopelessly lost. Over the years, her Norse has become passable, and her French, but her Latin is sorely lacking and little good can be said about her Mandarin.

            _'Yes, but I am fluent in Viking Vampirese, which is all I really need to know,'_ she quips.

            _'True. How true,'_ he agrees.

            Turning his head, he searches the shallows for his children, and finds Adele hunting for pretty rocks and beach glass. She has a growing collection of trinkets in her bedroom at home, including a rare piece of lavender glass that had once been an insulator many years ago before it was thrown into Superior. The glass – shaped and polished by decades of being churned in the lake – washes up on the shore for anyone to find. He has promised Adele a necklace made from her finds once she has enough "Mermaid's Tears" to encircle her neck.

            His little girl is shaping up to be a graceful beauty. Already he can see her developing her mother's long neck and slender frame, and she has his blue eyes and slightly wavy, blond hair. He will be beating would-be suitors off with a baseball bat and a wooden stake before too long, but considering her constant shadow, he may just be left with the leavings once Agnarr gets done with them.

            His son is becoming everything he could ever hope a son could be. Agnarr will be tall, and he is already beginning to show signs that he will have his father's broad shoulders. His face is a pleasant melding of both his parents' features, although his striking blue eyes and generous mouth are all Eric. But they are alike in more ways than just physical. They are both warriors, with keen minds for strategy and tactics. Both love the rush of battle – even mock ones – and relish in the feel of a sword hilt in their hands. And both are ruthlessly, viciously protective of their loved ones.

            Even at seven years of age, Agnarr is showing very strong territorial instincts towards his sister. He follows her everywhere, never far from her sight. Even now he trails his sibling as she wades through the shallow waters, his posture alert and defensive. He is her protector and champion, and he is swift to come to Adele's defense should she need him.

            As close as they were as when they shared a womb, the two are bonded more tightly than he and Sookie, perhaps, and they are rarely apart. When they are together, and at ease, they are never more than a few feet away from each other, and their telepathic link is almost seamless. He has seen them playing together, not a word spoken between them, and yet their communication is complete.

            This closeness they share is both a comfort and a sadness for Eric because he can see the signs of what their future will be, and he prays their bond will be strong enough to bear it. Already he can tell that one will embrace eternity and one will not. Agnarr, his son and protégé, will come to him in the darkness – when he is ready, when he is of age. Eric knows this just as surely as he knows Adele will stay in the sunlight, and he prays this inevitable diverging of their paths will not sunder the extraordinary connection they share.

            He does not voice his suspicions to his mate. He knows Sookie can read the signs as well as he can, but they do not speak of it. Sookie still clings to her humanity, and Adele clings to her mother's metaphorical apron strings. The two love sunshine, and gardens, and Southern cooking, but it is impossible for either of them to miss the signs that Agnarr will become his father's heir in all things, not just the business ventures.

            It is all right. He is patient, so is Agnarr. They will give the women plenty of time to get used to the idea. In this his position of authority guarantees that both of his children will have many years to grow and develop and decide what they want to be. That was his primary goal when he seized control of Felipe de Castro's throne and deposed the old regime. It's taken only two years to solidify his rule, and he is already developing a reputation as a fair but ruthless leader. His subjects adore him and his enemies fear him. This is exactly as things should be to ensure a long and prosperous reign.

            But Agnarr's crossing over into vampirism is decades away and much will happen in those years. His children will grow and become all that they were meant to be, and he and his mate will be there to guide them. He will further solidify his hold on his Kingdom, and maneuver the right people into the right places to get things done. Life – or undeath – will be good for all of them.

            He breaks from his self-satisfied musings before his wife can "take him down a notch" with a mental slap, and turns his attention to scanning the beach. His eyes fall on another member of his extended "family," Vincent Piazzi, and he sees the young Fire Demon paying court to a lithe, teenage girl with long black hair and amber-colored eyes.

            At twenty-four, Vincent has grown into a stunning man, and he has come fully into his powers. There are rumors that he rivals his father in pure explosive energy, but he possesses none of Zolan's dour stoicism. Vincent smiles, and laughs, and plays the violin almost as well as his mother, but he can still create beautiful pieces of obsidian from a single blast of his Fire. Adele has several examples in her collection, all of them made at her request. Vincent is a sucker for a pretty smile and a pair of pleading blue eyes, especially a pair belonging to a girl who has known how to use them to maximum advantage almost since the day she was born.

            Vincent catches his eye and smiles at him. He smiles back, but then lets his gaze go further up the beach to where Maria and Izzy are sitting under a big, blue umbrella. They are joined by two others whom Eric has come to know as close friends of the pair, one of whom is human like Sookie, the other is a kitsune Halfling with two tails. They are the parents of the girl Vincent is playing court to, and given the besotted expression on the young Fire Demon's face, Eric has to wonder if the girl has taken lessons from Adele. He has to grin at that.

            _'What are you grinning for?'_ his mate asks him, peering at him over her book.

            _'Nothing. Just an amusing thought of our daughter giving lessons in soulful eyes.'_

            _'The ones that make every man within a fifty-foot radius go unstable?'_ she presses.

            _'Those exactly.'_

            _'She'd make a fortune.'_

            _'No doubt. I can see the infomercial and book deals now.'_

            _'Don't forget classes.'_

            _'An entire seminar and lecture series, I'm sure.'_

            _'DVD sales alone would increase our bottom line by 500%.'_

            _'And to think you once told me you had no mind for business.'_

            Sookie laughs and sends a wave of love across their bond. It fills him and warms his dead heart, and he sends love back tenfold. Her eyes go soft and tender, and she gives him a secret smile before returning to her book. Oh yes, he thinks their **very** good friends will be babysitting tonight.

            _'I heard that,'_ Izzy's mindvoice interrupts, full of amusement.

            _'Do you object?'_ he asks.

            _'To watching the munchkins? Nah. You know Sparky loves them, and they're no trouble. Besides, Adele and Rosie will have fun ganging up on him.'_

            _'She's gotten into braiding hair,'_ he warns.

            _'I'll hide the hair brushes and alert the media.'_

            He chuckles and shakes his head. If someone had told him twenty years ago that he would fall in love with a human woman, blood bond with her and make her his mate, then pioneer an entire new fertility treatment that allowed them to have children, he would have ordered them chained in silver and dumped in a barrel of brine for fifty years. Now he is a husband, a father, and a ruler. He is adored by his subjects, favored by two goddesses, and surrounded by family and good friends who would do almost anything for him.

            Who could have known there could be so much joy in his life after so much pain, bleakness and emptiness? He had all but given up hope of ever being truly happy again, and it had taken a brazen, infuriating, willful Southern woman to show him what his future could be like if he chose to take the chance. It had been a leap of faith, and a rocky start, but in the end, it was more that he could ever have imagined.

            The cry of a Herring Gull catches his attention, and he raises his eyes to see it soaring overhead, its body silhouetted by the sun. And he is reminded of a poem about hope and its delicate wings.

            _'Hope is the thing with feathers that perches in the soul, and sings the tune without the words, and never stops at all.'_

            How true.

            "Papa! Papa! Look what I found!" Adele's excited voice cries, and he turns his head her way.

            "What is it, my most beautiful princess?" he asks as he rises to his feet.

            _'She found a piece of cobalt glass,'_ his son responds.

            _'Hey! I was going to tell him! No fair!'_ Adele's indignant mindvoice accuses.

            _'Now, now, you know there is no fighting on Papa's Sun Day. It's a day of happiness, and good times, and peace. Yes?'_ he reprimands.

            _'Yes, Papa,'_ the two reply, chagrined.

            _'Good. Now what is this treasure you have been so lucky to find?'_

            _'It's blue, Papa. It's blue!'_

            _'Blue you say. Now this I must see. Blue glass is indeed a rare prize.'_

            _'Can we put it in my necklace?'_

            _'But of course, my sweet. We can do anything you want with it.'_

            _'Awesome! I'm gonna put it right in the front. Do you think Vincent would make me some more black glass to go on either side of it?'_

            _'I am sure he would if you asked nicely.'_

            _'You think so? Awesome!'_

            _'He's so whipped, isn't he,'_ he hears Izzy comment to Sookie.

            _'He has a thing for blondes,'_ his wife answers, not skipping a beat.

            He scoffs, snorting, and casts the women a baleful glare with a fanged sneer. They just look at him with amused faces, not cowed at all.

            _'He's so cute when he goes all scary vamp, isn't he,'_ Izzy remarks.

            _'Cute isn't the word I'd use, but it's definitely hot.'_

            He growls, lifting his lip up even further in a menacing expression that usually sends his minions scuttling away in sheer terror. Sookie just raises an eyebrow.

            "Papa! Look! I found another one!" his daughter crows in triumph. "Papa! Come see!"

            He sighs, retracting his fangs and ignoring the tittering snickers coming from behind him, as he turns around.

            "I'm coming, dearest," he replies.

            And with that, Eric Northman, Vampire King of Louisiana, Nevada and Arkansas, wades barefoot into the shallows of Gitchee Gumee to follow after his children.

 

FIN

           

Hope is the thing with feathers

That perches in the soul,

And sings the tune without the words,

And never stops at all,

And sweetest in the gale is heard;

And sore must be the storm

That could abash the little bird

That kept so many warm.

I've heard it in the chilliest land

And on the strangest sea;

Yet, never, in extremity,

It asked a crumb of me.

-         Emily Dickinson

 


End file.
